


Deep Cover

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Avengers Tower, Becca is a good sis, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Cheesy Love Songs, Depression, Eventual Smut, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Gallows Humor, Identity Porn, Karaoke, M/M, Man Out of Time, Meet-Ugly, OC is a good bro, Paparazzi, Phone Sex, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Identity Fail, Secret Relationship, Steve Rogers & Avengers friendships, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Traumatic Brain Injury, Unintentional Stalking, War Veteran Bucky, bad singing, brief mention of suicidal ideation, definitely a love letter to karaoke, internalized ableism, some minor Manhattan bashing, sort of a love letter to Brooklyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 111,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: If you wanna feel like a rockstar, you call Bucky Barnes, owner of Shining Star Karaoke and DJ Services. Bucky has gained faithful followers for making people feel like the main event. When different men with the same Dorito physique pop up at his gigs all over NYC, he isn't sure if he’s just a magnet for gym bros or being pranked. Spoiler: The man in the uncanny disguises is on his own mission to sing any time, any way, and any song he wants without being judged as Steve Rogers or Captain America.





	1. No Scrubs Wear Their Sunglasses At Night

**Author's Note:**

> Artist- **Ellebeesknees** worked very hard to create a really amazing piece of art for this story. You can see more of her artwork by clicking on the posted art piece in this chapter.
> 
>  **About the story:** I’ve tried to cover all possible triggers, but if you think I need to tag something else, please feel free to let me know. Also, there is a playlist of all of the songs in this story posted at the end of the last chapter.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Marvel, any of the characters from the comics or movies, nor any of the songs/lyrics posted in this story. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All lyrics posted are credited with the original author(s) and performer(s) at the end of each chapter.

 

[ ](http://ellebeesknees.tumblr.com/post/164430544687/lenadraws-my-piece-for-the)

Cover art by Ellebeesknees

 

 

 

“Next up to the mic, we have Cheryl! Where you at, Cheryl? Come on down!” Bucky shouts into the mic.

A cute chubby brunette in a miniskirt and knee-high boots makes her way through the circular tables, taking up most of the floor to the elevated clearing near the DJ booth. She wobbles a little, her friends yelling her name.

Becca hands Cheryl the microphone and gives Bucky a little nod. Bucky shoots a smile at Cheryl and points at her.

“Give it all you got!” he says and clicks ‘Enter’ on his laptop.

The monitor goes blue and the first few notes are familiar enough that it rouses a few screams and yells from the crowd.

 _A scrub is a guy that think he's fine and is_  
_Also known as a buster (buster, buster)_  
_Always talkin' about what he wants  
_ _And just sits on his broke ass!_

 

Bucky grins as most of the bar joins in on the chorus. Cheryl’s getting into it, moving around and pointing at various guys in the audience, some of whom start giving her a thumbs-down with playful grins.

“Good one!” Becca calls over the music. She’s right, Bucky thinks -- Cheryl chose one of the karaoke holy grails, which means more crowd participation and requests from the shyer members of the crowd.

The first few moment of a song always reveal what kind of performer someone is, and Bucky has different ways of amplifying the performance of every type of singer. When someone is shy, he jumps in and sings along to encourage them. When someone is off-key, he’ll harmonize on the chorus. And when someone like Cheryl is drunk but committed, he becomes their cheerleader.

He pumps his right fist in time to the beat, and Bucky and Cheryl become a team. People are on their feet now, crowding around the stage to sing along. When the Left-Eye rap interlude starts, Bucky does a little spin in a circle, and someone yells, "You’re so fucking hot!”

__Bucky laughs in satisfaction. It’s definitely going to be a good night._ _

  

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve is sitting in a dark corner of the first bar he could find. After temporarily escaping the Tower, his duties as Captain America, and Nick Fury, all he really wanted was to be left alone. His nondescript blue ballcap is pulled down low and he’s covering his eyes with the ridiculously expensive Santos De Cartier sunglasses Natasha goaded him into buying. While he’s still bitter about how much they cost, in this moment, he’s grateful he made the purchase.

The twiggy bartender that reminds Steve of his preserum self alternates between throwing him suspicious glances and serving the customers.Occasionally he asks Steve if he wants a refill of his mineral water.

“No, I’m good," Steve says. "Thanks though.”

Wearing the shades is over the top. It is 11pm, after all. Steve briefly considers taking them off, but thinks better of it. They are his only line of defense in this very public place, and hiding behind them feels good.

There’s a drunk guy invading the space of a woman only a few seats over. For all he's content to be alone, Steve’s had just about enough of it.

“Hey, buddy, she said leave her alone," he finally says, leaning toward them. "Are we going to have a problem?”

The man frowns and takes in Steve’s size. Even sitting down, they both know Steve is taller and bigger than this guy.

“Calm down, sheesh. I was just giving the lady a compliment. Everyone’s so touchy these days,” he slurs, stumbling away.

The woman shoots Steve a grateful smile and he nods in acknowledgement. They both turn their attention to the center of the floor as the crowd starts to get rowdy. The tipsy, curvy girl standing near the front is really having fun.

The girl is singing some song about men who depend on their mothers for money. She’s off-key and off-beat.

Steve smiles as she wobbles from side to side and three girls rush to join her around the microphone to help her out. It reminds him a little of his old USO tours, when the showgirls would cut loose after a performance. Those were some of the very few bright spots of the war.

The crowd starts going wild, but Steve realizes neither the girl or the song is driving them. It’s the DJ. His name must be Bucky -- the crowd makes sure no one forgets it. They shout his name after every song, and sometimes even in the middle of one. He looks like he belongs on an arena stage in Madison Square Garden, with his devil-may-care long hair and bright eyes that shine in the stage lights.

But what stands out most about Bucky is the way he moves. He has more energy and grace with one arm than any other DJ Steve has even seen. Bucky rocks, headbangs, spins, shimmies, and even comes out from behind the DJ booth to do perfectly timed pelvic thrusts. It would be showboating for any other DJ, but when Bucky does it, the person on the mic seems to get an extra boost of confidence and ramps the performance up.

And Steve can’t take his eyes off of him.

The entire bar roars to new heights as the chorus begins. Steve scans the excited faces in the crowd, feeling the rush of being a part of something that everyone can participate in. He just doesn't know how.

He bites his lip, considering how to join in without looking as awkward as he feels about singing a song he’s never heard. The words are plain as day on the screen, and the chorus is very catchy. One glance at the DJ booth and he sees Bucky looking right at him.

“Everyone, and I mean everybody, even you in the back!” Bucky says, pointing.

The woman two chairs away looks back at Steve and starts shout-singing.

 ___No, I don't want no scrub  
__ _ ___A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me___

Steve throws caution to the wind and joins in singing, very off-key:

 _Hanging out the passenger side_  
_Of his best friend's ride  
_ _Trying to holler at me_

When the song ends, he can’t stop grinning.

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Pounding startles Bucky out of sleep. He jerks, heart racing, as he listens for the deafening boom of a bomb or the pop, pop, pop of a gun. The pounding sound continues, but there’s no screaming or crying. Just insistent knocking and a woman’s voice calling.

“Bucky, get your ass up!”

He relaxes, expelling a long breath. The woman in his nightmares only ever screams; she would never say that.

Bucky groans and buries his head between two pillows, trying to wait for his heart rate to slow back down to normal before he faces his little sister.

“Bucky, we gotta go! It’s nearly three o’clock, and Justin needs to test out the monitor with the new LED panel. We still haven’t done a practice run with my new MAC!”

If the constant knocking and shouting isn’t going to get Bucky out of bed, the threat of his little sister disturbing his neighbors, or worse, his cranky landlord Mr. Mueller, does.“Alright, alright!” he shouts, wrestling with the covers like Houdini trying to break free from chains. He finally stumbles onto his feet, but the knocking at the door continues.

“Buckyyy!” Becca cries.

“Bite me,” Bucky mumbles. He rubs his right hand over his face, trying to catch the crust in his eyes and drool on his chin in one fell swoop. Using his teeth, he snags up the band he keeps on his right wrist until his thumb catches it. Gathering a fist full of his hair in the back, he makes a messy ponytail. It took nearly six months to master that skill and he’s damn proud of it. He searches his floor for a mostly clean pair of sweats and after pulling them up he feels nearly presentable, at least for his sister.

When he enters the hallway, vertigo hits and he tilts and stumbles a little. He forces himself to pause and uses his hand to brace himself against the wall. Sometimes his head still feels scrambled and he has dizzy episodes. It always leaves him off-kilter and clumsy until his brain catches up.

Becca is still knocking and that’s just ridiculous. He starts shouting at her as he resumes his way to the front door.

“I. Said. I’m. Coming!” he bellows as he reaches the door. He pulls it back so hard Becca nearly knocks on his face.

“Took you long enough,” she huffs with irritation, but the relief in her eyes is plain as day.

Bucky rolls his eyes and gives her a tiny smile. It wasn’t too long ago that he couldn’t and wouldn’t answer the door, to be fair. “That was actually pretty quick for someone who was sleeping! Jesus, Becca, I think you woke up half of my unit. You know how hard it was to get the housing voucher for this place. I’d like for my neighbors to not hate me.”

“Too late, they’ve already met you,” she says with a grin, pushing her way past him.

She smells like a grown-up to Bucky -- fancy perfume, probably from her other job as freelance financial consultant, and she's carrying a drink carrier with a little brown bag and two cups from Starbucks -- hey! Bucky turns to follow her like a puppy.

“If that’s Starbucks, I take back everything. You know I love you, right?” He bats his eyelashes for maximum effect.

Becca snorts and waves the little brown bag in front of his face. “Now you love me, eh? How much?”

Bucky snatches the bag from her and dumps its contents on the kitchen table. “You know, I was just thinking DJing karaoke isn’t really a three-man job," he says. "Me and Justin can get handle it on our own. Especially if you’re gonna be a brat.”

Becca slaps his arm with her free hand, and Bucky loves her just a little bit more. Ever since he came back from overseas, most of his family and old friends have been skittish about horsing around and treating him like they did before. But not Becca or Justin.

“I’m gonna give you and Justin a key,” Bucky says.

Becca’s eyebrows climb slowly. “Really?”

Bucky nods.

“Wow, that’s...thank you,” she says with a small smile.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’d just rather not wake up to all the racket.”

Becca scoffs, but Bucky can see how much it means to her. A few months ago, Bucky would have never dreamed of giving anyone a key to his place. But those walls he built to protect himself are slowly disintegrating.

The second set of knocks is much more welcome and expected now that Bucky has gotten some food and coffee in him. He leans back in his chair to give a nod to Justin, his former Communications Sergeant and now second karaoke assistant.

“Hey boss, just making sure everything’s alright.” Justin shakes the bangs of his unkempt, shaggy mane out of his tired, hazel eyes. Whenever he does that, it makes him look much younger than his 28 years.

Bucky frowns, staring at Justin. He only lives about a block away in the same veteran's Resurrection Housing program, but Bucky’s elevator is temporarily broken and Justin is still in rehabilitation for the new prosthetic for his left leg.

“Justin, don’t tell me you walked all the way up here?” Bucky chastises.

Becca bites her lip like she wants to say something but holds her tongue. Justin simply purses his lips and dumps a tangle of wires next to Bucky’s feet.

“I did. Don’t even start, Bucky. I can’t learn how to walk if I don’t practice. Weren’t you the one who asked for people to stop coddling you and start treating you like an adult? That goes both ways.”

Bucky grunts and turns back to finish his breakfast. Beside him, he hears Becca blow out a hard breath and clap her hands. Whatever she's about to say, Justin beats her to it.

“Did you hear us last night? Those new speakers are sweet!”

“Yeah, man, crystal clear. Best sound we had yet,” Bucky says. “Did you see how far back they were singing? We owned the whole bar last night. The whole fucking bar.”

Becca smirks and Bucky is relieved to see it.“That was one of your best shows. You even got that creepy CIA-looking motherfucker in the back to sing.”

Bucky laughs. “He definitely looked weird wearing those shades. That’s the power of karaoke, it attracts all types - the cool, the weird, and everything in-between.”

“I know you were scoping him out.” Becca smirks. “Looked like he was checking you out too, from what I could see."

"How do you even know? He had on shades the entire night! It was ridiculous.”

“Not too ridiculous for you to check him out.”

Bucky shrugs, trying to look uninterested, even if that Dorito frame and jaw that could cut glass is Bucky’s jam. CIA-guy was the type that occupied some of Bucky’s dirtiest fantasies. In fact, the entire night Bucky was tempted to just stride right over there and talk to him, but the whole undercover agent look was pretty intimidating. Bucky's had enough of bad dealings with spooks to last a lifetime. So Mr. CIA Dorito man would just have to stay in his fantasies.

“Yeah, he didn’t look like the type to do karaoke,” Bucky says, switching gears. “But when he started singing along too, that's when I knew we were on fire.”

“We?” Justin says, shaking his head. “That’s all you, man. You’re a rockstar.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Bullshit. You know I couldn’t do this without the both of you.”

As he watches Becca raise one eyebrow like cunning villain, he immediately regrets the admission. “What I hear you saying is that we deserve free coffee for our hard work,” Becca says.

Bucky shakes his head and looks down at the wires Justin lay at his feet. “What’s this?”

Justin points at them and sighs. “Those wires are done. We got them secondhand and it’s starting to show. They have to be at least five years old. If we keep using them, we’re gonna start a fire. We need to pick up a new batch before we test the new monitor.”

“We better do that now,” Becca advises.

Bucky grumbles. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just let me take a piss and get a freakin’ shower first. Geez, you two are worse than my first drill sergeant. It’s not like we’re punching a clock here. The bar probably isn’t even open yet.”

“Actually, it opened a half an hour ago,” Justin says.

Bucky groans. There’s always a reply with those two.

They make a run for new wires and test the new LED panel with the online karaoke application on Becca’s new Mac. They have to troubleshoot a few things, and by the time they’re done, it’s nearly 6pm, which means they’re cutting it close to showtime.

When they arrive at Planet Rose, the manager lets them in through the back. There’s only one customer there, and he’s tucked away in the back corner chatting up a young woman stacking drinking glasses.

Planet Rose isn’t Bucky’s favorite gig. It’s a tiny space with poor lighting, so it limits how many people can even attend. The bar’s two saving graces are the head bartender, Mack, who Bucky considers a friend, and that it’s located in the East Village, which means there’s crazy diversity among the patrons and their song choices are all over the place. It keeps things exciting, and Bucky's Shining Star crew on their toes. Whenever Bucky adds new music to their songbook, it’s usually because a Planet Rose customer requested it.

“All set, Bucky?” Justin asks, checking the LED screens.

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky replies, running through the karaoke app and glancing over at all of the soon-to-be-filled tables. “Are all the new online request cards out?”

Becca nods. “Yep, and the old request forms too. Oh, and Mack wants a book for the bar,” she says, jerking her head to where Mack is setting up and talking to his staff.

“For himself or the bar?” Bucky asks.

Becca smiles. “You already know the answer to that.”

Justin laughs. “Oh god, do you think he’ll try Lady Gaga again? That was hilarious.”

Mack must have heard that last bit, because his face lights up. “Got any requests? I have her entire music catalogue memorized.”

“Easy there, Mr. Gaga,” Bucky says, waving down his hand. “Don’t forget you have paying customers coming. They’ll want a chance to sing, too. In fact, you know what? I’m putting you on restriction now. Two songs-- ”

“Two songs?! Ah come on, Bucky! Bartender’s pleasure!”

Bucky holds up two fingers and tries to maintain his I-Mean-Business expression, but it’s hard when the bartender reminds Bucky of a giant panda.

Mack pouts and then gives a great sigh. “Fine, two songs. That’s all it’ll take anyway, I’m gonna wipe the floor with my rendition of '‘Born This Way.'”

“What’s your second song?” Justin asks.

“‘Bad Romance’, of course,” Mack says, like Justin just asked a stupid question.

“Booo!” Becca jeers through hands cupped around her mouth. “Everyone does those. Mack, I need you to live Gaga, become Gaga, do your own thing.”

Mack rolls his eyes. “And what do you know about Gaga, Becca? Don’t even try to go there with me, okay?”

Justin cackles as Becca gives Mack the finger.

“Don’t worry, Mack, we got you,” Bucky says as he puts the bartender’s selections in the queue.

Becca grabs the microphone and saunters from out behind the DJ stand to the middle of the bar’s small clearing, right in front of the tables. The karaoke monitor at Planet Rose is pretty old and too small, but it’s set in the perfect place- right above eye level so drunk singers don’t fall over trying to read it.

“Mic, test, one, two. Mic test. Okay, give me something good, Bucky!”

Bucky rolls his eyes at his little sister, and puts on her trusty old standby tune, Bill Withers’ “Lean on Me.”

As the lyrics begin to scroll on the monitor, Becca starts singing:

 _Sometimes in our lives we all have pain_  
_We all have sorrow_  
_But if we are wise_  
_We know that there's always tomorrow  
_

With a big smile, she turns her eyes from the monitor and fixes them on Bucky.

 _Lean on me, when you're not strong_  
_And I'll be your friend_  
_I'll help you carry on_  
_For it won't be long_  
_'Til I'm gonna need_  
_Somebody to lean on_

And he should be used to it by now; she’s been singing that song for nearly two decades. But there’s a softness to her voice now that wasn’t there before his last tour, and her usual goofy smile now feels full of meaning.

Bucky blinks a few times. Suddenly it feels like someone kicked up some dust. It’s messing with his vision. He turns away, hoping that may help, but then he catches Justin’s expression. His former Communications Sergeant is giving Becca a sad smile.

Bucky finds himself fiddling with the schedule book, checking and double-checking their gigs for the next month, even though he already did that earlier today. It’s not really an effective distraction from powerful memories attached to that song, but it’s enough to ward off tears.   

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve peruses the Events section of the _Times_ until he sees the words ‘Shining Star Karaoke.’ That was the name on the panel of the DJ box where Bucky grabbed his attention.

Tonight, Shining Star Karaoke is the feature event at another bar, this time at Planet Rose.

He gets on his laptop to Google the location in East Village. The place looks small and very dark, if Yelp is anything to go by. But dark is good. There’s a bubbling thrill just under skin, the kind that always comes when he’s considering doing something no one expects of him. And absolutely no one will be looking for Captain America singing karaoke in a dank little East Village dive bar. He can do this. The key will be keeping his identity hidden. This means covering his hair and downplaying his physique.

He considers his options. Undercover usually means sunglasses, baseball cap, and maybe his trusty bomber jacket. It’s early spring, and the design may even be considered vintage cool.

A small smile pulls at his lips. He’s definitely going to Planet Rose tonight. He might even get to see Bucky Barnes again.

Steve tries to time leaving the Tower so as not to bump into any of the other Avengers. It’s nearly 8pm now, so he knows Tony and Bruce are just getting started on their late night projects. Sam is probably either hanging out with his non-Avenger friends, or on a date. Clint could be anywhere, and that usually isn’t a problem, unless he’s up in the ceiling watching the entrances. Steve will just have to deal with that later. It’s Natasha he’s most worried about. She’s stealthy as hell and seems to have eyes everywhere, even places she’s not actually occupying.

He exits his private quarters and gets on the elevator, already stiff and on the defensive. When the elevator makes an unexpected stop on Natasha’s floor, he isn’t surprised.

“Nat,” he says warily.

She gives him a full body glance and a nod as she steps onto the elevator. “Steve.”

The doors close, the silence between them growing stifling.

Finally Steve groans. “Just ask.”

Natasha turns with an amused smirk pulling at her lips. “From the looks of it, I assume you’re going somewhere undercover.”

It’s said plainly, but somehow, Steve still feels like she’s mocking him.

“I’m going out, need to keep a low profile,” he replies.

“Out where?” she presses.

“If I tell you, will you follow me?” Steve asks, looking her straight in the eye.

“Maybe,” she answers.

“Will you follow me if I don’t tell you?”

“Maybe."

“Nat, I just need some...fresh air. Okay? Without being hounded by the press or public.”

Natasha doesn’t argue or reply, but her eyes show skepticism, like she doesn’t believe him. Worse still, the way she’s studying his baseball hat and bomber jacket imply she doesn’t think he can pull it off.

“You think that’s really going to hide your identity?”

There’s a teasing lilt to her tone now that suggests the disguise may be doable - _by anyone else_. It only steels Steve’s resolve.

“I’ve used it with a lot of success before, and during the day, I might add.”

Natasha hums, but doesn’t say anything else.

That’s when Steve realizes they’ve been standing in the unmoving elevator in some weird type of standoff.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., can you please open the door,” Steve says, shooting a look of warning to Natasha. She holds up her hands.

“I have opened the door several times, Captain. Are you sure you’re ready to exit at this time?”

Natasha smiles. Steve shakes his head.

“Yes,” he hisses.

The elevator doors open, and Steve backs out while Natasha watches. “Don’t follow me. Okay?”

“Don’t make me follow you. Watch your back out there, Rogers. And call if you need help.”

“I’ll be fine. Have a good night!” Steve calls as the elevator doors close.

Pulling out his phone, he programs Planet Rose into Google maps and secures it into the GPS mount. He gives one last glance to the quiet parking garage, almost expecting another teammate to come out and harass him about where he’s going. But all is quiet, so Steve revs up the bike and takes off.

As he cruises down Lexington Ave, with no mission on the horizon, an odd sense of peace falls over Steve. He’s looking forward to a night of it. This night out could be the start of his own special retreat from the world. But that sense of peace is short-lived; as he gets closer, anxiety takes root and begins to grow.

When he finally pulls up to Planet Rose, it’s blossomed and his entire body is buzzing with it. It’s not the kind of buzz he gets before battle; this buzz of nervousness is its own thing. Steve recognizes it from his USO tour days. He tries to keep that in mind as he walks through the door. If he can perform for legions of disgruntled war-torn soldiers, he can handle a small group of drunk civilians.

Planet Rose is just as dark and small as it looks on Yelp, and Steve’s eyes are immediately drawn to the bright, multicolored lights surrounding the DJ booth. The Shining Star Karaoke banner is large and clear as day, with Bucky below it in the middle of the short stage. There’s a woman that looks very much like him behind him on the left, fiddling with a speaker, and a tall, lanky redhead further back to his right, studying some complicated looking equipment.

Steve’s eyes dart from the stage to the center of the room, where a couple of punk-looking kids are screaming into the mic.

The crowd is casually paying attention, not as riled up as at the other bar. Many are talking to their friends and some are checking their phones. Perhaps that should bring Steve some measure of comfort, but instead, it kicks his anxiety up a notch. In a laid-back audience like this, maybe Bucky will notice him more, because he’s the DJ and he’s watching everything. And it’s not like Steve can actually sing.

Steve still can’t decide what song to sing. Everything he knows is too old, and would raise red flags, which would defeat the purpose of a disguise. He frowns. It occurs to him he didn’t plan this well. Spur-of-the-moment thinking works better in the field, not for this sort of infiltration business. He decides it’s best to return to the Tower and plan this properly.

He sneaks one last glance at the DJ booth and freezes. Bucky is staring at him. Time becomes suspended under Bucky’s piercing gaze and Steve forgets to breathe. Then Bucky smiles, wide and beautiful, and waves his hand. Steve looks behind him for someone else, but there’s no one there. When he turns back, Bucky points and curls his index finger, beckoning Steve to come over there.

With an invitation like that, Steve can’t resist. If Bucky wants something from him, there’s no way he’s leaving now. Moving through cramped spaces between crowded tables, Steve can feel his heart beating in his temple. He’s not sure why Bucky noticed him, or what he’ll say when he reaches the DJ booth. He hasn’t even decided on a song to request.

The two punk guys are still screaming into the mic. Steve feels a bit guilty and self-conscious walking past them, but they’re too wrapped up in their performance to notice. Finally, he makes it past and comes face to face with Bucky, who greets him with an infectious smile.

“Hey, didn’t I see you the other night, at The Slattery?” Bucky asks. “You were sitting in the back, right?”

Steve’s mouth runs dry. Bucky actually remembered him. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that was me.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder at the woman who Steve now suspects is his sister. She’s smirking. Steve’s self-consciousness returns as he worries about his flimsy disguise.

“Did you come to sing?” Bucky asks.

“Ah, well, yes, I was thinking about it,” Steve stammers.

Bucky points directly in his face, like he just had an epiphany. “Corey Hart!”

“Huh?” Steve says, his heart sinking. Maybe Bucky mistook him for someone else.

Bucky laughs. “Corey Hart. He’s an 80’s one-hit wonder.”

“Two hits, Bucky,” the redhead guy on Bucky’s right says. “He had two fucking hits. ‘Never Surrender’ is a classic!”

Bucky sighs. “Geez, this guy! Don’t break my balls, Justin. No one cares! Anyway. Hart’s _biggest_ hit would be perfect for you.”

Steve looks down at himself. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Dude, you’re wearing shades. It’s nearly 9pm and we’re inside. Don’t get me wrong, the CIA look is really working for you. It’s actually kinda hot. That’s why I remembered you. But I digress. Sunglasses at night. Get it? You have to do Corey Hart for me. Pretty please?”

Steve nods, even though he’s still not sure what he just agreed to or who Corey Hart is. But Bucky called him hot and he'd sing the whole book to hear that again.

“Oh goody!” Bucky says. He's like a little kid about to get some candy. “This is gonna be so cool. So what’s your name? I’ll put it in.”

“Grant?” Steve almost winces at the question mark in his voice.

“Are you sure?” Bucky teases.

Steve nods again, instead of speaking. It seems safer.

Bucky types something on his laptop. “Okay, all set. You’re twelfth in the queue, just listen out for your name.”

Bucky’s probably-sister gives Steve a thumbs-up and a wink. He’s not sure why she seems so excited, but it’s encouraging.

He turns to go to the bar, and wait his turn, ordering a sparkling water. The bartender gives him a deadpan look and asks if he’s serious. Steve repeats his order, and the guy nearly huffs.

Surveying the crowd once more, Steve notices that the customers are very diverse-looking, all sorts of clothing styles, ethnicities and ages. None of the songs being sung sound alike, and Steve thinks that’s a good sign. There’s less chance of pissing off the crowd if everyone’s tastes are wildly different.

As the number of singers begins to wind down, Steve’s earlier anxiety begins to escalate. He pulls out his phone and Googles ‘Corey Hart,’ finding a short bio on a guy with spiked hair who was apparently fond of making duck faces.

He smiles, amused Bucky thought of a song that would go with his attire. When he glances back up again, Bucky is dancing behind the DJ booth to a guy singing a song promising to be someone’s personal Jesus. Steve cocks his head, trying to decipher the lyrics. It’s not entirely clear if the song is sexual, mocking religion, or promising friendship. Watching Bucky dance to it, though, makes it come alive, even though he’s not even singing.

The song fades away and Bucky asks everyone to clap for the singer.

“And next up we have a dude who is too cool for school. Grant! Yo Grant, come up here!”

Steve mentally curses and slowly stands. As he makes his way through the crowd, he wonders if it’s too late to back out. But how would that look to Bucky?

It doesn’t matter anyway; the music is starting. Steve freezes. He’s seen "deer in headlight" syndrome -- new soldiers sometimes get it on the battlefield -- but it’s never really made sense to Steve until now.

What the hell was he thinking?

   

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

When the CIA-looking guy from the previous night walked right up to the bar, Bucky felt his eyes bug out. The guy is wearing the same baseball cap, same expensive-looking shades, only this time he’s wearing a bomber jacket. It does little to disguise the fact that this guy is built like Captain America, or maybe The Rock.

And now he has a name to go with that fantastic body - Grant.

Bucky didn’t know what he was expecting when Grant said he’d sing some Corey Hart, but it wasn’t this. He frowns as the song starts and Grant just stands there like a statue, holding the mic. The guy looks like he wants to run -- off the stage, out of the bar, away from the city.

“Come on, man! Come on! You can do it. Just sing!” Bucky shouts.

But Grant just keeps standing there. Now people are looking. Grant shakes his head, like he’s about to throw in the towel, but Bucky is determined and has turned his attention onto the crowd. “Don’t leave him hanging, guys. Help me pop Grant’s karaoke cherry! Who’s gonna help him out?”

The two punk rockers who sang earlier seem to come to some sort of agreement. They stand up and crowd forward. Grant goes into warrior stance, and if Bucky didn’t know better, he’d bet this guy was a soldier, maybe even an officer. Still, he can’t help but laugh at how dramatic Grant’s being.

“Grant, Grant, chill out man,” Bucky says. “You gotta relax, okay? Just sing along. Read the monitor, and sing along.”

Grant stares at the monitor and then looks back and sees the the young men clamoring towards him. He balls his fists, like he’s ready to strike out, when one of them claps his back with a crooked smile.

“It’s alright, man, we got you!”

“Let’s do this shit!” the other one chimes in.

There’s a musical break and then they’re all crowding in around Grant’s microphone.

 _I wear my sunglasses at night_  
_So I can so I can_  
_Watch you weave then breathe your story lines_  
_And I wear my sunglasses at night_  
_So I can so I can_  
_Keep track of the visions in my eyes_

 

One of the guys pulls out his shades and for dramatic effect slides them on very slow. He looks at Grant with a big smile. Bucky is relieved to see Grant is smiling a little too, and now he’s even singing.

Bucky sees Justin in his periphery, jamming out. That’s no surprise -- Justin is the president and only remaining member of the Corey Hart fan club. When Bucky looks forward again, Grant is starting to really get into it.

 _Don't switch the blade on the guy in shades oh no_  
_Don't masquerade with the guy in shades oh no_  
_I can't believe it!_  
_'Cause you got it made with the guy in shades oh no_

He’s moving his hips and giving Bucky an eyeful. Even with that big bomber jacket, Bucky can tell Grant is working with something special back there. It makes Bucky want to come from around the DJ booth and grind up on him, but if he’s anything, he’s a professional. As a distraction from Grant’s fabulous backside, Bucky pumps his fist to the beat, riling up Planet Rose’s crowd even more. 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Just when Steve gets comfortable, coordinating moves with the punk rock guys, the music starts to fade out.

“Alright, give it up for Grant, guys! It takes a confident man to wear his sunglasses at night,” Bucky says. As he looks right at him, Bucky flicks his tongue out to swipe at his bottom lip.

Steve raises his eyebrows, wondering if that was intentional or not. There are only a few people applauding when Steve hands the mic back to Bucky’s assistant. But that’s a few people more than the last singer, so Steve feels good about it.

“That was pretty good, man,” Justin says. “You had a rough start, but once you got into it, you did that song justice.”

He holds his fist level in the air, the way Clint often does, so Steve bumps it with his own. “Thanks.”

Someone grabs Steve’s arm, and he whips his head to the left, slightly alarmed.

It’s Bucky. The sexy DJ wants to talk to him. Again. He feels like he’s still recovering from their last interaction.

“That was great, man. Good job. And thanks for singing that song for me. I owe you one.”

Bucky still has his hand on Steve’s arm and Steve has a strong urge to move in closer, but he manages to hold together. Just barely.

“So ah, this is gonna sound kind of random,” Bucky starts, pulling his hand back to himself. Steve already misses the weight of it. “But my sister wants to DJ for a little while, so I’m on break. Would you, uh, wanna maybe join me at the bar?” He still has a sexy little smile on on those kissable, pouty lips, but his eyes look uncertain, like this is a long shot.

“Yeah, of course!” Steve says.

Bucky’s smile widens. He leads Steve back through the tables towards the bar, eyes bright. “What would you like?” he asks leaning onto the bar.

Steve waves. “I don’t drink. But um, I wouldn’t mind a sparkling water.”

Bucky laughs and then abruptly stops. “I’m sorry, man. That’s not funny. I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just...we’re at a bar. But it’s cool. Hey, Mack, can you get me a whiskey straight up and a sparkling water.”

The big, burly man Bucky calls Mack gives Steve a very judgmental look before fetching their drinks.

“So, Grant, mind if I ask you a personal question?” Bucky starts.

Steve braces himself, hoping he won’t have to lie too much. “Sure. Go for it.”

“Are you CIA, or a wanted fugitive?”

Steve can’t help but smile. “What?” 

Bucky thumbs back towards the DJ booth. “Me and my sister have a bet going.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve says, looking past Bucky to the woman now controlling the DJ stand. “What do you think?”

Bucky gives Steve a blatant once over. “Honestly? I think you could be Captain America.”

A surprised laugh spills out of Steve. It sounds sort of hysterical to his own ears.

“I mean, look at you. You’re a big motherfucker. Seriously though, what’s up with the sunglasses and baseball cap? Not to be rude, but when I saw you the other night, I thought you were Secret Service, or worse, one of those shady-ass S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.”

Steve smirks. The irony is ridiculous, but still he feels some sense of loyalty to the agency he works for, even if he agrees with Bucky’s assessment. “Those shady S.H.I.E.L.D. agents played a major role in saving the city from aliens, more than once.”

Bucky scrunches up his lips like he’s debating whether to argue Steve down. “Yeah, okay,” he finally concedes. “They did. But I still don’t trust ‘em. In fact, until that first alien invasion, no one even knew S.H.I.E.L.D. existed.”

Steve nods. He can’t dispute that.

“And you didn’t answer my question,” Bucky redirects. “What’s with the getup? Who are you hiding from?”

“Who says I’m hiding?” Steve asks, taking a sip of his water to hide his smile. He’s enjoying this little cat-and-mouse game more than he thought. He's curious about where it’s heading.

“Buddy, I’ve worked around people trying to hide for half of my life. You’re hiding. Not very well, but yeah.”

Steve rubs his chin thoughtfully and hums. “Alright, I guess the jig is up. I’ve been made. You were right - I’m CIA. I'm supposed to be undercover, but apparently I’m completely shit at it.”

Bucky snickers, but his smile is bright. He leans in a bit to bump Steve's shoulder. It sends a little flutter through Steve’s stomach.

“Aww, don’t be so hard on yourself. It used to be my job once to sniff out undercover operatives,” he says, making a finger-gun pointed right at Steve. When he cocks his head to squint through an imaginary scope at his thumb, Steve’s eyes go wide in surprise. Of course, he used to be a soldier.

“You were a sniper,” Steve says, matter-of-fact. “What branch?”

Bucky’s smiles falters and he looks down at his tumbler of whiskey. “Army. Special Forces.”

“Wow, that’s really impressive,” Steve murmurs. His eyes drift to Bucky’s pinned-up left sleeve.

Bucky snorts. “Is it?”

“I think so,” Steve says earnestly.

There’s a long pause. Bucky looks up and assesses Steve, like he’s not sure if he’s being patronized.

“You serve?”

The question comes out abrupt and skeptical. Steve nods. “Yes, I did. I was in the Army as well.”

He waits for the next questions - what unit, how many tours, where - but they never come. Instead Bucky knocks back his next sip and swallows hard. “Cool. That’s great. You’ll have to excuse me, Grant. I’m not really into trading old war stories. But it’s always nice to meet a fellow soldier.”

There’s something in his voice, like a wound that won’t heal, but not for lack of trying. Steve recognizes it, like an old tune. Only a few people know the melody, but those who know do are protective of it. He knows.

He changes the subject.

“So, uh, where are you from, Bucky?”

Bucky smiles. There’s a little relief in his eyes. Steve relaxes a little. He must be doing something right.

“Brooklyn, all day, every day,” Bucky replies. A little flutter passes through Steve’s chest.

“Nice. I haven’t been back there in awhile. Been stuck here in Manhattan for work.”

Bucky covers his heart dramatically. “That is tragic, my man. You have to get back to Brooklyn. The people there, they’re more real, know what I mean?”

“I do. Maybe that’s what I been missing. Authenticity.”

Steve is only just realizing how incredibly depressing he sounds, but when Steve looks back at Bucky, he sees only understanding and admiration. That seems strange, because nothing Steve said is admirable.

“That’s hard to find in this town. Anywhere, really,” Bucky says softly. “But Brooklyn definitely has more of it. I only come into the city to work, and then I take my ass right back across the Brooklyn Bridge.”

Steve laughs, charmed by Bucky’s candor. Bucky laughs with him. It feels good, and emboldens Steve to say what’s been on the tip of his tongue since Bucky said he was from Brooklyn.

“I was thinking if I ever decide to go back, it’d be nice to have a tour guide. You know, someone to show me what’s new.”

Bucky’s smile falls a little. His eyes become contemplative as he stares back Steve. “Hmm. Brooklyn’s a big place. Did you have a particular area in mind?”

Steve tries to contain his smile, but it’s pretty damn hard. “I’d leave it up to you. You’re the expert.”

The answering smirk and little swipe of Bucky’s tongue over his bottom lip has Steve’s heart beating double time. “Yeah, okay, Grant. I can do that for you.”

Steve’s nearly breathless when he replies. “Good.”

“Bucky!” Justin calls.

“What?” Bucky looks over with an irritated frown.

“It’s 10:45,” Justin replies.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters. “My break is over. Stay for awhile? We can exchange numbers and make plans after. Okay?”

Trying to hide his disappointment, Steve does his best to offer an understanding smile. It feels more like a pout. “Yeah, sure. You’re the star, after all.”

Bucky snickers. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Steve says. “It was nice meeting you, Bucky. What you do up there, it’s… it’s great. I really enjoyed myself.”

Bucky slaps Steve on the back as he stands. “Really glad to hear that, Grant. And hey, feel free to put in another song. We’ve got about 2 hours left before things close.”

Steve waves him off.

As he watches Bucky take the stage and grab the microphone back to announce the next singer, Steve’s elation about their tentative date begins to crumble. Bucky wants to meet up and spend the day traversing Brooklyn. How would that even work without Steve revealing himself? And how will Bucky react when he finds out Captain America lied to him? The more he thinks of it, the more convinced he becomes that it can’t work.

He takes another sip of his mineral water, and throws down a few dollars. “Thanks,” he says to the bartender.

Mack frowns. “If I overheard correctly, I think Bucky’s expecting you to wait until his set is done.”

Steve looks down, embarrassed at being caught. “Yeah. I uh, can’t really stick around. Tell him I said maybe another time.”

Mack gives Steve a disappointed once over as Steve turns away. He’s going to judge himself enough. He doesn’t need more from a stranger.

“Sure thing, asshole,” Mack calls.

Steve tries to ignore him as he walks out.

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Two weeks later, Steve finds himself in an interagency meeting. He can’t stop fidgeting in the overstuffed chair he’s been sitting in for the past hour. The S.H.I.E.L.D. conference room is packed wall to wall with Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives, and agents from other agencies.

Fury is droning on about the next mission, though "mission" is a serious overstatement. It’s a PR stunt, meant to improve the way those in defense appear to the rest of the nation.

“The bottom line is people don’t understand what we do, and we have to make sure that they never do. They have to see the mystery as positive. Now we’re going to be hitting up targeted sites…”

Blah, blah, blah, blah. Steve’s looking at Fury, but all he sees is Bucky. In his head, the lights are bright, and those glacier eyes are staring back at him as the music plays in the background. Bucky extends his hand -- he’s holding a microphone. Steve accepts it and the music changes from frenzied noise to a familiar melody. It’s Billie Holiday, and Steve doesn’t even need to look at the words on the screen. He’s staring straight at Bucky as he begins to sing.

 _You go to my head_  
_You linger like a haunting refrain_  
_And I find you spinning round_  
_In my brain_  
_Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne_  
_You go to my head_

A vicious kick to his shin shatters the daydream like a popped bubble. Steve swivels his head to meet Natasha’s eyes. She has an odd look on her face, like she’s concerned and intrigued.

"You okay?" she’s mouthing.

Steve gives her his most subtle headshake, which must not be subtle at all because Maria Hill starts clearing her throat and shooting a meaningful glare their way.

Steve barely controls rolling his eyes and when he looks back at Natasha, who’s gone fully blank. He knows that face. She’s listening to Fury, but she's also mentally working on a dozen other things. It’s taken years to learn Natasha’s expressions; she’s damn good at masking her emotions. That only accounts for when she’s not wearing a mask.

Steve’s eyes go wide with realization. He turns in his seat and smiles at Natasha, who looks back at him like he’s gone mad.

“Outside,” he mouths.

She moves her eyes away without replying, but the rest of the meeting goes by in a blur as Steve contemplates the plan. 1. Get a mask through Natasha. 2. Find out which dive bar Shining Star Karaoke is playing at next. 3. Wear the mask and keep singing karaoke without needing to worry about being found out.

Seems pretty simple and foolproof, and it’s a heck of a lot better than his old disguise. Contrary to what that Corey Hart song suggested, apparently people do not generally wear their sunglasses at night. Bucky came too close to figuring out who Steve actually was that night at Planet Rose. It’s the reason Steve hasn’t been back in two weeks, but now it seems the issue may have a solution.

“Why do you need a mask?” Natasha murmurs, hours later, as they walk away from a tiresome conversation with the the Secretary of State.

Steve smirks, because if she’s asking about it before they hit the door, she must be dying to know. “Natasha, you of all people should respect that we all have our secrets to keep.”

She pulls on his hand to lead him away from the crowd filing out of the conference room. They turn corner after corner until they arrive at the service lift.

The door shuts with a creak. “The scientific method or bust,” she says to no one. When elevator starts to descend, Steve looks around, thoroughly impressed.

“Can’t decide if this is really cool or creepy.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same,” Natasha says.

As they drop another floor, the weight of Natasha’s stare begins to make Steve uncomfortable.

He huffs and turns to look at her. “What?”

“What are you up to?” she asks.

“That’s classified,” Steve answers automatically.

“We have the same level of clearance, Rogers,” Natasha says.

Steve glances up at the elevator ceiling. “How would you know if I received intel I couldn’t share?”

Natasha looks like she’s trying not to roll her eyes and Steve feels transparent under her gaze. She seems to be measuring something as the elevator stops. “So, if you want a mask, all you have to do is tell the R&D front desk that you need to see one of their techs. They’ll ask for your preferences, take some close up pictures, and then measure you.”

“Great, thanks, Nat,” Steve says.

“This better not be for something stupid,” she finally says as Steve backs out of the doors.

Steve raises one eyebrow. “Natasha, would Captain America ask for your help to do something stupid?”

Natasha gives him an unimpressed look as the elevator doors close. “No. But Steve Rogers would.”

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Later that afternoon, Steve finds himself sitting in yet another boardroom. This time it’s just the team and Fury. It should be a relief, or somehow better than the interagency meeting they had to endure earlier, but all these meetings are starting to feel the same to Steve.

“Captain, are you listening?”

Fury waves a hand in front of Steve’s face. Steve blinks around the conference table to find his entire team staring back at him with varying degrees of curiosity. Steve feigns annoyance to cover his bewilderment over losing the last five minutes.

“Yes, of course.”

“Well?” Fury asks. “What do you think?”

Steve sighs. Even though he missed the last five minutes, the answers to Fury’s questions are always the same.

“I think you already know what you want, and you just want me to give it a stamp of approval. But you really don’t need my approval, do you, Nick?”

Fury hates it when Steve calls him that. It’s hard for Steve to keep his smirk in check when Fury’s eye starts to twitch. The air in the room grows heavy as they glare at each other while rest of the team watches on with the sort of intensity given to a good tennis match.

Finally, Fury breaks. “No, I don’t. However, this will go a lot more smoothly if I have everyone’s full cooperation.” He says the last coolly, like a veiled threat rather than a request. And it probably is, knowing Fury, but Steve’s too tired of his little manipulations to get riled up by any of it.

With a one handwave, Fury conjures up a virtual three-dimensional map of the world that floats over the conference table. No matter how many times Steve sees Fury or Tony do that trick, it never fails to fascinate him. It really is like magic.

“Let me repeat myself, just in case some people in the room didn’t catch the last bit,” Fury says, giving Steve a ‘you ain’t slick’ glare. “Starting next week, S.H.I.E.L.D., the State Department, and the Department of Homeland Security will launch Operation: Global Cooperation. It’s the first unilateral initiative of its kind to involve this many agencies in an international peacekeeping outreach effort. As the Avengers, you will play a crucial role in serving as the face for this initiative. We want to accomplish two things: number one, clean up our image, and number two, find new allies and partners to prevent the catastrophe that happened last year from happening again. Captain, you’ve polled particularly high among all demographics in most countries, even those with anti-American sentiment. So I’m very glad to hear you’re on board.”

Steve has to swallow down a groan. Not this shit again. He wonders if they’ll make him dance and sing like the monkey of yore.

The meeting is adjourned, and Nick exits the room. The conference room breaks into loud conversation and people stand up and move around like they’ve been chained to their chairs.Frankly, Steve thinks, that's not an inaccurate description of their ‘strategic’ meetings.

Steve stands to leave, when he’s called back.

“Cap! Where you going?” Tony asks. “Fury just left, don’t tell me you’re chasing after him. You cheating on us?”

Steve looks around. There are varying gradations of curiosity reflected on his team members’ faces. Natasha is smirking, which is rarely a good thing.

Steve goes for nonchalant and waves in the generation direction of the door. “No, I just, ah...I have a lot to do.”

“Like what? There’s no immediate mission,” Sam asks one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Uh...” Steve throws up his hands, avoiding Sam’s stare. “I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”

Clint snaps up from leaning all the way back in his chair and levels a stare. “Cut the crap, Cap. What’s going on? Tony heard one of the R&D guys say they were designing a custom high-tech prosthetic mask for you. What’s it for?”

Gritting his teeth, Steve’s shifts his gaze from Clint to Natasha, who doesn’t look the least bit guilty for divulging that information. The temptation to tell them to mind their own business is strong, but as he looks from Sam to Bruce to Tony he knows it’s not going to be something he can brush off.

“Itsforkaraoke,” he mutters softly.

“What’s that?” Bruce asks, cocking his head.

Steve takes a deep breath, and raises his head to jut out his chin defiantly. “I said, it’s for karaoke. I’m, uh, doing a solo mission, and it involves karaoke establishments…”

“Karaoke establishments?” Bruce is grinning. “What, are they covering for Hydra now?”

Steve just shrugs. It’s safer than lying.

The team shoots worried glances between them. Tony looks extra serious as he rubs his chin. “This mission come from Fury, or--”

Steve is quick to shake his head. “No. I, uh, I stumbled upon some intel on my own. Can’t disclose my sources, but it seems pretty reliable.”

Tony raises an eyebrow and begins to walk around the table. Steve holds his breath, waiting for an interrogation. When Tony raises his arms and looks back at the table with a smile, everyone kinda nods their acceptance of Steve’s explanation.

It can’t be that easy, he’s in a room full of professional spies and bullshit detectors. He tries to maintain his serious Captain America-Is-On-It look, but he can feel his hands growing sweaty. The urge to avert his eyes from them is very strong.

Clint and Natasha exchange a furtive look. Finally, Clint nods. “Sounds really important, Cap. Do you need any back up?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nope. I don’t think there are any immediate threats, but, uh, if the situation escalates, you guys will be the first I notify.”

Bruce looks a little bewildered as he glances to Sam, who just gives a one-shoulder shrug and a nod.

“You do that,” Natasha replies. Something about the way she said that makes Steve thinks he just entered the spy version of chicken.

Steve gives them all a nod and turns to leave.

“Watch your back out there, Cap,” Clint calls. “And if you’re going to a karaoke bar undercover, you better have a few songs ready. I suggest Journey. It’s a standard for karaoke. Plus everyone loves Journey.”

Steve clears his throat. “Uh, thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be singing.”

As soon as he’s out of the room, Steve exhales and closes his eyes. He’s not really sure if his team bought it, but they aren’t prying, and that’s all that matters. He heads to the elevator to go back to his quarters and get ready for a night of karaoke with his new mask, when Nick Fury boards before the elevator doors completely close.

He tries to play it cool, but Fury stepping in right after him is no coincidence.

“Afternoon, Captain,” Fury says with a speculative look.

Steve gives a stiff nod. “Afternoon, Fury. I thought you would have been long gone after a three-hour meeting. So how can I help you?”

Never let it be said that Fury doesn’t appreciate the direct approach. He gives Steve a wry smile. “I just came from R&D and a little birdie told me you paid them a visit this morning, before the meeting. You wanna tell me what that’s about? Sometimes we can’t even get you down there when we ask nicely.”

A carefully practiced, mostly true lie rolls off his tongue. “Oh that, yeah. They’re fitting me for a few high-tech prosthetic masks.”

Fury opens his mouth, but Steve anticipates his next question and keeps talking.

“For future ops. The covert kind,” he explains. “As much as I love my shield, it isn’t always very helpful for going underground or gathering intel. I decided to be proactive and have a few made, should the occasion arise.”

They stare at each other for several seconds like they’re playing some schoolyard game of "who blinks first." Finally, Fury looks away. Steve mentally fist-pumps. He won.

“If I find out you’re going rogue or leading the team on some bullshit I didn’t authorize...” Fury warns.

Steve can’t help but raise his chin defiantly as he waits for Fury to finish.

“Just make sure that doesn’t happen,” Fury finishes, looking frustrated as he raises his hand to the sensor near the elevator door.

The elevator jolts to a stop and Fury quickly strides out.

“Have a great day!” Steve calls after him with false cheer just to mess with him.

When the elevator closes, Steve unzips his right thigh pocket to caress the new jelly prosthetic mask inside. It looks like a clear jello, but later this evening when it’s on his face, he’ll be a handsome brunette with hazel eyes.

He can't wait to see how it looks. Maybe he will sing Journey after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my story for the 2017 Stucky Big Bang! It's also my first Stucky :D After reading Stucky for 3 years, I decided to dip my toes in the pool and I'm so glad I did. This has been the craziest and most fulfilling fandom experience I’ve ever had. This story is the result of four intense months of constant sprinting with my friends in the SBB Slack. We wrote together literally every night for several hours. It was wild, y’all. I have never written anything this long in such a short period of time and I would have never finished this fic without my Slack friends. Thank you all for the constant encouragement, feedback, and constructive criticism. I’m so happy we met. 
> 
> A very special thank you and much respect goes to my freakin’ EDITOR **Newsbypostcard** who Alpha read the shit out of this story. Thanks for ripping me a new asshole in the most loving and educational way possible. Also thank you so much **743ish, Furious-Winter, tetrodotoxinb, Icoulddothisallday** for beta reading under pressure just before posting. You guys rock, and I owe you all cookies! Please check out their stories. Most of them wrote for the SBB 2017. They’re all incredible writers and you will not be disappointed. 
> 
> Last and definitely not least, my artist, **Ellebeesknees** , who read one snippet and then took off like a bullet to create a fantastic piece of art. It was a really easy collaboration and I’m so grateful and lucky you chose my story to bless with your art. Please take some time to check out the rest of her amazing artwork and show her some love. 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this story. I consider it my token of appreciation for this awesome fandom and all of the fantastic Stucky I read every night. <3 <3
> 
>  
> 
> Song credits for this chapter: 
> 
> “No Scrubs” was written by Kevin "She'kspere" Briggs, Kandi Burruss, and Tameka "Tiny" Cottle and performed by TLC
> 
> “You Go to My Head” was composed by J. Fred Coots and with lyrics written by Haven Gillespie. It was later performed by Billie Holiday and many other artists.
> 
> “Sunglasses at Night” was written and performed by Corey Hart.


	2. Don't Stop Believin'

Ever since that near miss at Planet Rose, Steve’s combed through every news rag looking for any mention of The Shining Star Karaoke Company, and where they may play. Bucky is quite popular and plays all over the city, but the Overlook bar seems to be his most consistent booking. Steve's thought about trying out other karaoke outfits, but he just feels more comfortable knowing Bucky's charisma can back him up in a pinch. Plus Steve’s already scoped out the Overlook and he likes the look and vibe of the place.

Last week he made a vow to himself that he was definitely going to go tonight and try his luck on the mic, without help, now that he's truly incognito. But now the time is here, and the idea of going onstage after nearly being discovered at Planet Rose seems both silly and daunting. Still, a vow is a vow, and after procrastinating for nearly two hours, Steve finally works up the nerve to try out the mask. It feels slimy on his face, and there’s a tingling sensation as it melts into his skin, stretching and fitting every nook and cranny until it almost feels like it’s a part of him. The voice module for his disguise, Roger, sounds more MidWestern than New York. It’s annoying; he didn’t ask for it. He tries to say a few words, which makes him feel even worse. Somehow the voice disguise, though effective, feels more dishonest. He snorts at the irony.

He walks closer until his nose is practically touching the glass. He closes his eyes and pictures Roger on stage singing the Journey tracks Clint has played for him.

Clint plays a lot of Journey.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks his reflection.

But what is he going to do? Spend another lonely night at home in his Stark prison watching celebrity chef shows and eating all the latest processed junk money can buy? He shakes his head at the thought, his determination growing. Grabbing his keys, he takes one last look at the mirror before leaving for the Overlook.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

The owner of the Overlook bar, an older gentleman named Dan, greets Bucky and his team at the door of the bar with a huge smile and firm shake of the hand. “Hey man, good to see you. Floor’s all yours to set up.”

Bucky smiles. “Over here, guys.” Bucky points to the far corner for Becca and Justin to begin to set up, then goes back out to the van to get the rest of the equipment, a happy spring in his step. The Overlook is one of Bucky’s favorite spots in the city to DJ. One of Manhattan’s most popular dive bars, it’s always packed to the brim, and his karaoke sign-up sheet stays full. Everyone, from non-singing amateurs to professional Broadway actors, drops in on karaoke night. But what Bucky likes the most is that Dan never makes Bucky feel like a circus freak for being one of the city’s most sought-after karaoke DJs -- who just so happens to have only one arm.

As Becca and Justin set up the DJ controller, PA mixer, amplifiers, and speakers, Bucky can’t help but wonder who might drop in and take a chance on the mic tonight. He gave up on expecting Grant to make an appearance after he ducked out on Bucky without even saying goodbye. It hurt a little, but Bucky reasoned he misinterpreted ‘a tour of Brooklyn’ for exactly that, when Grant probably meant it as a euphemism for sex. It was an understandable mistake, and Bucky’s mostly gotten over it.

Besides, other noteworthy visitors have helped him get over it. Last week, a few of the original Hamilton cast members made a surprise appearance at the Overlook after an impromptu reunion in Times Square. It was a once-in-a-lifetime night, and Bucky’s not expecting anyone that famous to pop up again anytime soon. Still, he finds himself growing excited because, well, you never know.

Once the Overlook opens, it swells quickly with people and sound. By eight o’clock it’s more packed than usual and the karaoke sign-up sheet is stacked. There is at least a two-hour wait for anyone new who wants to take the mic, but people are still signing up anyway.

A leggy young Korean girl named Kim is next up to bat. She requested some old school Janet Jackson, but Bucky could tell she only chose that because she was scared. Bucky gave her the ‘are you kidding face’ and goaded her to live a little, so she summoned up her courage and chose to cover Beyoncé.

But now Kim looks like she’s regretting her life choices. She’s glancing back at Bucky like he’s the devil incarnate.

He simply smiles and leans into his microphone. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have a first-timer here. Her name is Kim, and she’s a little nervous.”

The crowd coos and yells out encouragement.

“Alright now, settle down, settle down,” Bucky says. “We’re gonna make Kim’s first time so sweet, aren’t we? Because want to make sure she comes back to us.”

Someone screams, “Oh god, please, Kim!”

Several people laugh, including Kim, and already Bucky has a good feeling about this one.

“So what I need you all to do is to give Kim our special warm welcome. And how do we welcome first timers here at the Overlook?”

A hundred glasses shoot up in the air as the crowd exclaims: “Sing that shit!”

Several whoops go up and a few buzzed girls in the front rush to Bucky’s DJ booth to grab extra microphones so they can show support by singing as Kim’s backup. Bucky sizes Kim up to gauge if she’s actually going to go through with it. He's pleased to see she’s no longer biting her lip or folding in on herself. She’s still squirming a little, but making eye contact with the crowd and holding the mic like a weapon. When she glances back at Bucky with a daring smile, he feels himself swell with pride like a father. He gives her a thumbs up as he starts up the music and lyrics display, and in a matter of seconds, Kim takes off, hitting all the high notes like he knew she could.

It’s about midnight when the biggest, brickhouse brunette Bucky has ever seen walks into the Overlook.

This guy is huge. Bucky likes them a little bigger than him and he sure likes them stacked like that, so he’s checking Mr. Brick Shithouse out pretty thoroughly. He reminds him of Grant -- at least in stature. Unlike Grant, though, this guy’s face is completely visible. And he’s very handsome. From Bucky’s estimate, the man is around 30 years old. He's got light brown hair, boyish hazel eyes, and a kissable mouth.

Kissing customers is against the rules. Bucky knows it, and he’s still thinking about how to make it happen.

There are only Five Rules to being a good karaoke DJ:  
1\. Have a wide selection of songs - old, new, multiple genres - and be prepared to improvise and suggest others when you don’t have something the customer requests.  
2\. Be a good cheerleader. Encourage the shy ones, the drunk ones, the bad singers, and the good. The performer and crowd are only as lively as you are. Always bring the good vibes.  
3\. Make sure the equipment works. It’s fucking embarrassing for everyone if the monitor blanks out or the song stutters and the singer keeps singing on. Don’t make shit unnecessarily awkward.  
4\. Do not ever show partiality to anyone - stick to the sign-up list. Give everyone a fair shake, and make sure that their time up at the mic is the best karaoke experience they've ever had.  
5\. Do not get involved with the customers. Sure, build rapport, learn their names, make small talk, make sure they come back and feel comfortable with you, but you never, ever get romantically or sexually involved. It’s bad for business because eventually they will hog up all of your time and attention which veers into breaking Rule #4 and hurts potential tips, OR, when things go south, as all relationships do, now you have baggage and an ex that can easily find you which breaks Rule #2.

Bucky knows these rules like the back of his hand. Hell, he preaches them when he mentors new DJs. But he’s already come close to breaking Rule #5 with Grant just by liking the guy so much.

And if this guy plays his cards right, Bucky just make consider breaking Rule #5 again. He can tell that just by looking at him.

When Brickhouse strides over to sign up for the mic, he gives Bucky a small smile. Bucky waits for him to stare at his pinned-up shirtsleeve, but the guy’s eyes don’t linger. He signs his name and turns towards the bar, and that makes Bucky even more intrigued.

The waiting list is still as long as Bucky’s leg, but at least it’s a bit more manageable now. Overlook may be a hot spot, but it’s still a Wednesday, and past midnight. Folks are leaving and the crowd is thinning, but both the bar and booths on the floor are busy.

Bucky quickly grabs the clipboard before the guy can get too far. “Roger? That’s you?”

The guy looks startled, like he wasn’t expecting Bucky to talk to him. “Yeah, uh, yeah that’s me. I’m Roger.” Roger says it like he’s trying to convince himself, and Bucky, that it's true.

Bucky tries not to snort. Roger is either really buzzed or nervous. “First time here, Roger?”

Roger laughs. It sounds a little maniacal. Bucky feels his eyebrows climbing higher and higher. “Uh yeah, you could say that.” Roger takes a visible swallow.

Bucky immediately feels sympathy for the guy. This is his specialty, making first-timers feel comfortable. “Well, don’t be nervous, okay? I’ve got you. What would you like to sing? You just put down Journey. That’s an excellent choice, but I need to know what specific song you want me to put on.”

“Uh...” Roger’s eyes dart around like the answer can be found somewhere in the bar.

“Don’t Stop Believing? Faithfully? Separate Ways?” Bucky offers.

Roger looks absolutely overwhelmed now, and it’s making Bucky feel like a bully. “Hey man, it’s okay. Want me to pick a song for you?” Bucky rushes to say, alarmed at how a simple question seems to have caused so much anxiety.

“Yeah,” Roger exhales in relief. “Could you, please?”

Bucky gives him an easy smile and wink. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s go with something easy that everyone knows. Don’t Stop Believing?”

Roger nods with a rough jerk and a weird smile that makes Bucky think he has no clue what’s going on. Yeah, this guy has to be stoned or drunk. Bucky appraises him one more time, just to make sure Roger can stand on his own. The guy looks like a lost labrador, but he’s standing tall and strong, and fuck, look at those biceps.

“Uh, so, you’ll put me in the queue, and call my name when it’s my turn?” Roger asks.

Bucky’s stare snaps up from Roger’s incredible torso to his pretty hazel eyes. “Yeah, that’s exactly how we do it. You’re in luck, the crowd is thinning out, so you’ll be up soon, okay?”

Roger gives a jerky nod, turning back to the bar.

Backing up to take his place at the DJ booth, Bucky watches Roger covertly as he begins to set up for the next performer. Roger’s sitting on a stool, nursing a drink and canvassing the crowd. Every now and then he’ll glance at Bucky and then avert his eyes like he did something wrong . No friends or family around, it seems. Bucky instantly feels something in his heart clench. Poor guy. He vows to make it good for him when he comes up.

Three people later, and Bucky calls Roger’s name. Okay, he may have moved Roger up a few notches, or a dozen, because he wants to see what a big hipster like this sounds like when he sings.

He offers Roger an easy grin as the guy makes his way to the DJ booth. Becca hands Roger a spare microphone. Roger’s obviously nervous; he’s gripping the mic until there’s nothing but white knuckles showing.

Bucky has no intentions of letting his guy fall in front of this crowd.

“Alright everyone, we’re getting down to the wire here. If you finish the night out with me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Sound good?”

Several people give Bucky a nod or call out, “We got you!”

Bucky grins. “Excellent! So, we’ve got someone new to the Overlook. His name is Roger.”

Roger gives a goofy wave to the crowd, who either offer awkward smiles or completely ignore him. When he looks back at Bucky, his lost puppy look is amplified and Bucky has a sudden urge to protect him.

“Oh that’s pitiful,” Bucky chides. “I know you guys can do better than that. Let’s end this night with a bang. The party isn’t over until the lights come on. If you’re still here and still drinking, then I want to hear you make some fucking noise! Now Roger’s a first-timer here. And how do we greet our first timers?”

“Sing that shit!” several people shout.

Roger smiles when the bartenders raise their hands and goad the crowd to say it again. This time, when he looks back, Bucky gives him a thumbs up.

“There we go! Let’s do this!” he says as he turns on the display and music.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve doesn’t even know this song. He just walked up to Bucky and asked him for some Journey like Clint advised him to do. It really didn’t matter which song, because Steve doesn’t know any song by Journey.

The beginning chords of an upbeat song start to play, and the patrons seems to recognize it right away, screaming and clapping. That's frankly pretty intimidating for someone who doesn’t know the song at all.

The blue monitor fades to cheesy 80’s snapshots of a man and woman wearing bad clothing, running hand and hand. Big, block, yellow words appear out of nowhere and Bucky points at Steve.

“There we go! Let’s do this!” he shouts.

Steve nods and begins to read-sing. “Workin' hard to get my fill, everybody wants a thrill, payin' anythin' to roll the dice, just one more time.”

He’s off, really off but the crowd doesn’t care because they’re singing the melody.

“Yeah!” Bucky shouts.

Steve looks around in bemusement. There’s a guy in the audience banging his head and on the guy's right, his friend gives Steve a weird two-finger hand symbol.

“Some will win, some will lose, some were born to sing the blues. Oh, the movie never ends…”

Steve’s mouth drops open as the entire room points and shouts at him, “It goes on and on, and on, and on!”

Relief takes over and Steve begins to relax as he falls in time with the music, his eyes darting back and forth from the crowd to the monitor.

This time, when the chorus comes back around, Steve feels a little more confident. The crowd holds back a little, letting Steve take the reins. God it feels good to hear the echo of his voice in the room when he sings out, “Don’t stop believing” - and it gets easier from there.

When the song ends, Steve’s head is buzzing like the first time he snuck into his Ma’s liquor cabinet and drank too much. He can’t get drunk now but this is a better replacement than he could have ever hoped for. Unlike Planet Rose, the crowd at the Overlook shows unabashed enthusiasm and appreciation for his performance, and not because he’s Steve Rogers or Captain America. He’s a no-name weirdo and he can’t sing if his life depended on it, but these people are still being nice to him.

He smiles back and nods, bemused at these people rewarding poor singing with encouragement.

A clap on the back startles him. He turns around lightning fast, his fists drawn up, mostly out of habit, ready for anything.

Bucky’s wide smile disappears as he takes a step back with his hand up. “Hey, man, it’s okay. I come in peace. Didn’t mean to spook you.”

Steve sighs, his face growing hot from embarrassment as he glances around. The ceiling lights are on and the last of the patrons are paying up their tabs.

“Sorry, I guess I’m a bit jumpy,” he says, cursing his sudden onslaught of awkwardness.

Bucky waves it off, with a small smile. “I’m Bucky, by the way, Bucky Barnes.” He holds out his hand.

Steve takes it and shakes it too hard and too long before realizing he hasn’t replied yet. “Uh, yeah, I know. You’re sorta popular. That was a, uh, fantastic show.”

There’s a fondness in Bucky’s eyes that makes Steve melt a little. “I’m glad to hear you enjoyed yourself. I know the first time up can be a bit nerve-wracking. You handled yourself like a pro once you got comfortable.”

And damn, Bucky’s stare and compliments have Steve’s face warming again. He can even feel the blush reaching his ears. He absently wonders if the mask is concealing any of it. “Thanks you to you, really. You really know how to work a crowd.”

Bucky gives a half-shrug and sexy little smirk. “It’s my job. So I’m curious. Roger, right?”

Steve nods eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, Roger.”

“Okay, Roger, what made you come out and try karaoke by yourself? Usually people get bullied into it by friends or they do it on a dare, after copious amounts of liquor. As far as I can tell, you’re stone-cold sober.”

A bubble of unexpected laughter tumbles out of Steve. Because yes, he’s sober, but not willingly. If liquor had any effect on him, he would have definitely had some before singing.

“This is gonna sound dumb, but I just wanted an audience. I sing a lot when I’m alone, and I always picture doing it in front of crowd. I’ve wanted to try karaoke for a while, but I’ve been putting it off. I just decided to hell with it, I’m doing this.” Steve takes a gulp of air because it feels like he said all of that in one breath, and it also felt eerily like giving a confessional for Father Brown back when the nuns used to drag him to Mass.

Bucky just smiles. It’s warm and accepting. Steve feels his chest loosening.

“I really admire that,” Bucky says. “It’s good to see someone just go for something they want, you know? Take the bull by the horns. So, Roger, where are you from?”

Steve looks down at his drink, contemplating whether to make up some fake background for Roger that goes with the voice module, or to tell the truth. Bucky is nice, easy to talk to, and in this moment, Steve would really love to be honest because talking to Bucky makes him feel like a real person and not a collector’s item.

“Uh, Brooklyn actually,” Steve says. He ducks his head and glances up at Bucky as if he’d just admitted to being devious. In a way, he supposes he has.

It’s confirmed in Bucky’s eyes. He looks downright confused and seems to be searching Steve’s face, waiting for a punchline.

“ _You’re_ from Brooklyn?” Bucky repeats slowly.

“Yeah, Brooklyn Heights, or at least roundabout the area they’re calling Brooklyn Heights now,” Steve stammers. The more he talks, the more pronounced the mask’s Mid-Western voice module becomes.

Bucky narrows his eyes like he just heard something suspicious. “Brooklyn Heights, eh? Born and raised?”

The skepticism in Bucky’s voice stokes something old and familiar, like a long-forgotten childhood routine. Without thinking, Steve finds himself jutting out his chin and sitting up straighter. His body is vibrating with anticipation, waiting to be tested, to prove to Bucky he’s 100% Brooklyn.

“That’s what I said,” Steve replies.

He does not expect the snort or deadpan look on Bucky’s face.

“Okay, whatever you say, Roger. Far be it for me to question the word of a fellow Brooklynite. But I have some bad news for you.” Bucky pauses and beckons Steve to move in closer with a wave of his hand. Hesitantly, Steve complies and leans in. Bucky glances around like he’s about to say something embarrassing. “Your Brooklyn accent needs work - you’re doing a shit job of covering up the Kansas farm boy thing.”

Steve snorts out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, okay, thanks, I’ll take that under advisement. So Mr. Brooklyn expert, where exactly in Brooklyn are you from?”

“Park Slope. Old Park Slope though!” Bucky emphasizes with a declarative point of his finger. Steve chuckles because old Park Slope to Bucky can’t be very old at all. “Not the new gentrified hipster haven it’s become. I can’t even afford rent in the neighborhood I grew up in, isn’t that fucked up? I live in Bed-Stuy now.”

“Mmm,” Steve responds, still stuck on the concept of ‘old’ Brooklyn versus ‘new.’

“But I don’t have to tell you about the change in rent, being from Brooklyn and all,” Bucky says with a smirk, like he still doesn’t believe Steve. “So, where do you stay? Brooklyn Heights, or-”

Steve shakes his head and frowns. This is starting to sound too much like their last conversation, and it’s going to be harder now to keep the truth going. Just the thought of where he resides now reminds Steve of why he came out tonight - to escape. And for twenty minutes he got his wish, but now reality is sinking in again and the high from karaoke is evaporating.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky rushes to say. “Totally inappropriate. That’s none of my business. I wasn’t like hitting on you or anything, just trying to make conversation. But actually it’s getting pretty late… the bar is closing and I should be packing up.” Bucky rises from his seat, and shit, that’s not what Steve wants.

“No, it’s… it’s fine.” Steve reaches out for Bucky’s arm, then suddenly thinks better of it. Bucky pauses, though, so Steve rushes to explain. “I was just thinking of a way to answer your question. You kinda caught me. I mean, I wasn’t totally lying before. I was born and raised in Brooklyn, but uh, well, I’ve been away for quite some time so I’m sort of in between places right now. To be honest, I’m torn about whether I wanna stay in Manhattan or move back to Brooklyn.”

Bucky slowly sits back down, his apprehensive expression smoothing out into a frankly sexy grin. “That’s not even a real dilemma, Roger. When in doubt, always choose Brooklyn.”

Steve laughs in spite of himself. “Oh, it’s that simple, huh?”

“You’re damn right it is,” Bucky says. “Brooklyn has more community, more real neighborhoods, more diversity, more culture-”

“Wait a second. What about Harlem, Chinatown?”

“Exactly!” Bucky shouts. “Manhattan is crazy segregated.”

Steve has to give him that one. “True. I suppose there are less money-hungry three-piece suit types in Brooklyn…”

Bucky nods, like Steve’s finally getting it. “Definitely. Plus Brooklyn has better food, better block parties…”

When Bucky pauses, Steve knows without even guessing what his next words will be. They stare at each other, their eyes widening.

“And better music!” they exclaim in unison.

The laughter comes easy and it feels good, like taking off his uniform after battle. Steve realizes he hasn’t smiled or laughed this much since he woke up from being frozen five years ago.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. Brooklyn it is, at least for now,” Steve says, giving him a little grin.

“No, Roger, it’s always Brooklyn. Fuck that ‘we’re all New Yorkers’ bullshit the Mayor’s always talking. Brooklyn always comes first, ‘til the end of the line,” Bucky says. He smacks his hand on the table.

“Bucky!” a woman's voice calls - Becca, his sister, over by the DJ booth. Steve watches with amusement as Bucky throws back his head like he’s dying. He gets the feeling that hanging out with Bucky would be highly entertaining.

“What, Becca?”

The young woman who bears a striking resemblance to Bucky walks over. She gives Steve a suspicious look and then puts on an exaggerated pout for Bucky. “Need you to lift something,” she whines. “I’ve done my time with the equipment set up. Come over here and pull your weight.”

“Jesus,” Bucky mumbles as he stands up and gives Steve an exasperated headshake. Steve smiles, but he’s really grappling with whether to ask for Bucky’s phone number. Their conversation gives him hope for the possibility that a real friendship is within his reach -- a real friendship, not based on avenging. But asking Bucky’s phone number means making things so much more complicated, especially if he wants to stay in disguise. If he doesn’t ask, though, that comes with another set of consequences.

Steve feels his smile faltering under the weight of either outcome.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Roger," Bucky says." I hope I see you again next week. Remember, we host karaoke here every Wednesday.”

And just like that Bucky’s walking away. Steve watches for a few minutes as he bickers with his sister and then begins putting the DJ equipment away. Steve looks around and sees the bartender wiping down the bar and occasionally glancing his way, like he wants to ask Steve to leave but he’s waiting for him to get the hint.

Steve gives the man an apologetic smile and makes his exit.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

The high from karaoke tapers off just as soon as Steve gets within two blocks of the Tower. By the time he makes it to the garage, the buzz has all but vanished. It feels a lot like a sugar crash - fun while you’re consuming it, but coming down sucks. Dismounting his bike requires more effort than usual. The garage is quiet, and once again he is acutely aware of just how alone he is.

It’s a bit of a struggle trying to walk to the elevator. Though sober, he's still loopy and zapped of energy. A small irrational part of him thinks that if he stays outside of his private quarters a little while longer, maybe he can hold on to the good feeling of being on stage.

Becoming Roger was freeing in a way Steve had not anticipated. Hoping to go unnoticed without the fanfare of stargazers or dealing with false compliments about his terrible singing, he had no idea how fantastic it would feel to have a room full of strangers look back at him with approval. Not for being a government experiment gone right or saving people or property, but for being incredibly unremarkable, even terrible at something normal people do. For the few minutes he was on stage, those cheers and applause felt like affirmation.

Changing into a pair of pajama bottoms and well-loved t-shirt, Steve’s thoughts turn to Bucky. Not only did the guy charm the pants off the crowd, but he managed to play a great set between singers.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Becca’s watching him with judgy eyes as she helps Bucky put the equipment on the van.

“What?” Bucky sighs. “Nothing happened.”

“Rule #5, Bucky,” she says in a tone that makes her sound too much like their mother. “You made Justin and I memorize it.”

Bucky’s eyes fall to the pavement. “His name probably isn’t even Roger. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t get a number or nothing. He didn’t even try to get me to hook up with him later. Total strikeout.”

“You or him?” Becca replies.

Bucky rolls his eyes. At the end of the night, Becca’s nagging usually grates, but right now Bucky just takes it all in stride. He feels light and content. Talking and laughing with Roger felt good, like having a drink with an old friend, which is wild because he just met Roger, and Roger was not at all a trustworthy kind of guy. It’s obvious to Bucky the guy was hiding something, and what was up with him trying to claim Brooklyn with that Mid-Western accent? Bucky totally isn’t buying that ‘I’ve been away for a while’ line. But it was a good talk, and Bucky is still smiling.

They’re almost done loading the truck when Bucky notices that Justin is unusually quiet. He keeps his eye on him as he squares away the amplifier.

“You alright?” Bucky asks him, as soon as Becca goes back inside to close things out with the manager.

Justin shrugs and takes a drag on his cigarette. “I guess. I can tell it’s gonna be one of those nights. Can feel it under my skin, you know?”

Bucky swallows and forces a small smile. “Yeah, I know. If it gets too bad, you know what to do.”

He hates the way Justin rolls his eyes and goes, "yeah, yeah, yeah," because it means no matter how bad it gets, Justin won’t call. Bucky feels like a complete hypocrite for his frustration, because he knows he never calls anyone either, but it's still hard to hear.

“You ready?” Becca asks, startling them both.

Her eyes are concerned as she looks between them. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, peachy,” Justin replies, blowing out a puff of smoke then promptly stomping the cigarette out.

The ride home is quiet… too quiet. Bucky can practically hear Becca worrying even though she’s not saying a word. He turns up the radio to drown out the vibes she’s giving off, refusing to meet her eyes.

She’s definitely staring at his profile. Bucky grips the spinner knob on the steering wheel to help him control the wheel as he makes a sharp left turn. The SUV jerks and he tries to straighten out of it quickly, but it’s sloppy. Driving was so much easier when he had two hands.

Becca’s hand flies to his knee. He hears her breath hitch.

“Still working on it,” Bucky mutters apologetically, his face heating up. Thankfully, it’s too dark for anyone to see.

Usually Justin would respond that Bucky needs to work harder at driving, or at least work on not killing them. But not tonight. The silence from the back seat is telling.

Bucky tries to concentrate on the radio. There’s no music, people are just talking, and Bucky isn’t into it. It sounds like NPR and the moderator is talking about jazz, so Bucky doesn’t change the station out of respect for the artform. He isn’t really listening, though, his thoughts too preoccupied by what’s going on with Justin. When Bucky glances in the rearview mirror, Justin’s just a dark outline slouched over in the backseat. But they’ve spent enough nights in caves and foxholes together for Bucky to know when Justin is in a bad way. He’s brooding. More than usual. And Bucky doesn’t know how to help him, but he does know that Justin’s dark mood is infectious. He hates that he resents Justin a little bit for the nightmares he’s going to have.

"Here we are," Bucky says as he drops Justin off. "Goodnight."

"Night," Justin says, throwing the door closed with a slam.

Bucky exchanges a glance with Becca, but they're silent the whole rest of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credits:
> 
> “Don’t Stop Believin’” was written and performed by Journey.


	3. Sexual Healing

Pepper assures Steve that Robin Roberts, his interviewer, is going to make things easy. She knows that Steve hates doing press junkets, and promises to make it painless.

“You’ll be fine, Steve,” she coos, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as Steve paces in his small, bright dressing room at the Times Square studio of Good Morning America. He kind of hates and loves the babying. Secretly, he wouldn’t mind spending more time with Pepper -- she’s nice to talk to -- but he’s always mindful of the boundaries of his role, and hers.

“As long as she sticks to the script,” Steve says, with a grim smile.

“Of course, Robin is the best. Oops,” she says, pressing her hand to her earpiece. “One of the producers has a question. I should go field it. Why don’t you go down the hall for hair and makeup? It’s around the corner on the right. I’ll be back, promise. And don’t worry, Steve, it’ll all be over before you know it!”

And then she’s gone, and Steve is staring at the open door. Various strangers pass by, some gawking, others completely ignoring him. He’s not sure which one he hates more.  
  
“Let’s get this over with,” he mutters. He heads off to find hair and makeup, where he encounters a tall, thin, dirty-blonde woman named Lauren. She wields her makeup brush like a wand. She sits Steve down like a oversized doll, fawning over Steve’s “flawless” complexion.

“It must be the serum, right?” she says, caressing his cheek like it’s a piece of art instead of actual skin attached to a real human. “I mean, wow, I don’t even really need to put anything on you. You’re just perfect. Your skin is just….oh geez, you’re just glowing, darling.”

Off to the side, a waifish young woman with thick glasses draws closer. Lauren looks over.

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers,” the young woman says anxiously, her eyes darting to Lauren. “But could I get a selfie with you?”

“Kaitlin! You know better!” Lauren scolds. “Please excuse her,” she apologizes to Steve. “She’s just an intern and a kid.”

The girl, Kaitlin, looks dejected as she mumbles an apology and turns, and Steve just can’t have that.

“No, it’s okay,” he says. “Please, come back.”

Kaitlin turns back with a huge grin. “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

Steve nods, hoping this will be quick. He goes stiff as Kaitlin practically climbs into his lap to smoosh their faces together for an awkward photo with her phone.

“You’re the best!” she says with a grin. “Sorry, Lauren, won’t happen again, promise!”

Lauren says as she watches the girl walk away. “Sorry about that. Kids these days...no respect.”

Steve forces a small smile.

“Hey, Wendy! Wendy!” she calls loudly. “Come over here.”

A heavyset woman with curly brown hair and too much blush comes quickly, practically running. “What do you think, huh?” Lauren asks, sliding her fingers through Steve’s hair pulling it up so it stands. “Should we do the windswept look or keep it military crisp?”

Wendy moves closer and takes both of her hands and pushes them through Steve’s hair. Back and forth, back and forth. Steve knows he’s glaring, but he can’t help it. He vividly pictures pushing her off, even though he would never do something like that. But the fantasy of it provides some relief.

“Windswept, I think,” Wendy says, finally releasing her hold on him. “He needs a little personality. There’s more to Steve Rogers than just the Captain America suit, right?”

She’s smiling at him, and suddenly Steve feels like an asshole.

“Right,” he says with a genuine smile.

Wendy gives him a wink and proceeds to artfully style his hair to look ‘windswept’. Steve kind of likes it. As it begins to take shape, he watches her carefully in the mirror so he can do it again when he gets home.

And then he’s being pulled out of the chair towards the the edge of a set, where a man with an earpiece and a clipboard is waving him to come closer. The man clips a pack onto his pants and does a sound check. Steve stands by awkwardly as applause rises in the next room. The guy with the earpiece and clipboard puts his arm around Steve’s shoulders and walks him over to an empty seat, in front of a large window with lots of people -- old and young, of all races. They have signs that say “Captain America” and “I love you Steve Rogers.”

Steve waves. The crowd goes crazy.

“Sound is gonna bitch at me all day if we don’t get that under control. Try not to do that again, at least until after the interview,” the man says.

“Uh, sure,” Steve says. Then Robin is right there, sitting in front of him, her body angling toward the cameras, which are closing in on them. For a moment, it reminds Steve of the time he was surrounded in Cairo by a terrorist cell. He quickly pushes that thought away.

“And as promised, we have a very special guest with us this morning. He doesn’t interview often, and when he does, it’s usually after saving the world from destruction. So we are very honored and excited that Captain Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, has graced our studio with his presence today.”

Steve nods to the cameras and tries to tune out the screams that permeate the thick glass from the audience outside.

“Wow, oh wow, I can’t believe you’re here. I’m talking to Captain America! My grandmother would have loved to have seen this.”

Steve just smiles as he always does, not sure what to say to that.

“So, Steve, how are you? You look amazing by the way!” Robin says it with genuine warmth. She sounds like so many people Steve has spoken to before, yet there’s a grounded energy to her that puts Steve at ease. Her eyes and smile and the authenticity of her vibe reminds him a little of his mom.

Steve exhales a little and unclenches his fingers. “Thanks, Robin. It’s a pleasure to be here, and you look pretty swell, too.”

Robin slaps Steve’s thigh and giggles. “I haven’t heard the word ‘swell’ since I was a little girl.”

The room is suddenly ten degrees warmer. Steve tries not to fidget. One moment he’s getting comfortable, the next he’s reminded why it’s never a good idea to get comfortable, especially on camera.

“You’ll have to excuse me," he says. "I’m still learning the lingo."

Robin smiles. “Me too, me too. There’s always a new slang term for everything. It’s hard for anyone to keep up. So Steve, is it true the Avengers are going on a world tour so we can get to know you all better?”

Steve exhales. She’s sticking to the script, and he can do what he does best, slip into his Captain America persona. “Yes, Robin, that’s the idea. As Avengers, we do what we do because we love people. We want everyone to be safe and have the same freedoms so that they can enjoy life. We also realize, though, that our quest to defend people from threats sometimes breeds false ideas and misperceptions about who we are and what we’re trying to do. This world tour will be an opportunity to tear down some of the figurative walls that have been erected by false rumours and fear. We want people to get to know us better, but we also see it as a chance to get to know the people we do our best to defend.”

Robin claps. “That is fantastic. And I’m sure you, especially, will have plenty of interested fans clamouring to meet you. You may be Captain America, but you are one of the most popular superheroes on the planet.”

Steve tries not to blush. He’s pretty sure he’s failing.

“I think it’s your story. There’s something just so inspiring about it no matter who you are. The transformation from a skinny asthmatic kid, determined to fight for the greater good, volunteering for a government experiment that would turn him into a supersoldier. And then there’s all of the brave things you did in World War II with Howling Commandos, which ultimately led to the selfless and courageous act of crashing the Valkyrie into the Arctic. The world mourned your loss in 1944, but it wasn’t over, was it?”

Steve shakes his head, right on cue. “Nope.”

Robin beams. “You came back to us. And you didn’t miss a beat. You went right back into action, fighting on our behalf against aliens and assisting our military against global terrorism. You’re just an amazing person, Captain. You know the word 'hero' gets thrown around a lot today, but you’re the living embodiment of what it means to be a real life hero.”

“Thank you, Robin, that’s nice of you to say.” Steve hopes this will be the end of her gushing. His face has to be beet red by now.

“But maybe we don’t know everything,” Robin continues. “You said that there are false ideas and misperceptions about the Avengers. Name one that you’d like to dispel right now.”

Steve shifts in his seat, tipping his head back as if thinking, even though he already planned his reply to this part. “The first thing I’d like to clear up is the rumor floating around on the internet that says we’re clones or even machines. That’s simply not true. Me, Black Widow, the Falcon, Iron Man, the Hulk, and Hawkeye, are all flesh and blood people. We all came from a mother and a father, and we have feelings, we bleed, we sleep, and eat just like everyone else.”

“I’m glad you said that, Captain,” Robin says, leaning in. “Because I think there’s a lot of people out in our audience that are very familiar with Captain America, but who really don’t know who Steve Rogers is.”

Steve laughs, just like he had planned when he reviewed this part of the script. “Well, what would you like to know?”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

Steve gives his best USO smile. “Well, I like baseball, and I’m starting to get into basketball as well.”

Robin’s eyes go wide. “You play basketball?”

Steve waves his hand. “No, no. I like watching it.”

“Okay, but what do you like _doing?_ Like hobbies. What makes Steve Rogers happy?”

And that wasn’t in the script. Steve opens his mouth and then closes it. Suddenly, the cameras are too close. The overhead lights are too hot.

“Ah, I’ll have to get back to you on that. We don’t get a lot of down time, and I’m still catching up on a lot.”

Robin nods and leans in to put a gentle hand over Steve’s in his lap. “I think you just accurately summed up life for most Americans nowadays. There’s just no time.”

Grateful for the save, Steve chuckles, the panic that seized his heart now ebbing.

Robin keeps her hand on his, and Steve knows it’s probably not protocol. But there’s a comforting warmth to her touch and an understanding in her eyes that makes Steve wish they could go out to lunch when this is all over.

“But, as my mother always said, you have to make time for things you care about," Robin says. "Personally, I’d like to dedicate more time to going to see Broadway shows. I love the theatre! Absolutely love it. But, like you, I’m always working. Unlike you, I don’t save anybody, so I guess I don’t have a great excuse.”

The laugh that tumbles out of Steve isn’t rehearsed, and Robin’s eyes light up when Steve nods in agreement. “Franky, I think your mother’s right. We gotta make time for things we like. And if I had more time, I’d be interested in checking out more Broadway as well.”

“Sounds like a date!” Robin says with an exaggerated wink.

The audience explodes as Robin thanks Steve for coming and discusses what’s coming up in the next segment. The lights dim and the cameras back up, and Steve sighs in relief.

“Thanks, Robin,” he says.

She’s still holding his hand and gives it a firm squeeze. “I wasn’t lying. It was truly an honor to interview you today. And I really do hope you find some time to explore and find your happy place. You’ve earned it.”

There’s a lump in Steve’s throat, but he gives her a small smile when she leans over to hug him. It's not the kind of formal polite hug he’s used to receiving at cocktail parties from frisky wives of diplomats or movie stars, but a genuine embrace, full of good will and nurturing. He melts a little and hugs her back.

“You call me anytime, okay? I know how we can be,” she says with a knowing smile. “You need someone on this side of the camera you can trust. Pepper has my number. Okay?”

Steve nods. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Robin offers one last smile and then Steve’s being shuffled off backstage, where Pepper is waiting.

“That didn’t go so bad, did it?” she asks.

“Yeah, it was alright. Please tell me that was my last one,” he says, unable to keep the whine out of his voice.

Pepper winces. “Well, it’s your last one in New York.”

Steve stares at her for a moment, and then remembers the schedule for the next few weeks. He silently groans and turns away, heading to the studio exit that lead him outside.

But the exit just leads to another long hallway. Pepper catches up and promises him that at the end of the hallway, their car is waiting. But on the way, a few committed fans manage to find him. Security catches them, but they’re reaching out, screaming his name and beg for a quick autograph or selfie with their favorite superhero. And what is Steve supposed to do, brush them off and say no? Of course not. He grins and poses for a several selfies, enduring questions he has answered and avoided a thousand times over.

He's almost saved; news of some other mega star arriving grabs everyone’s attention. Steve quickens his steps to the hallway exit to make his escape. But just before he reaches the car door, two members of the camera crew jog up. They want mementos for a son, a niece, and probably Facebook too.

By the time Steve climbs into the back of the armoured Cadillac with Pepper, it’s afternoon. And he’s hungry.

Pepper remains unusually quiet for the ride back to the Tower. She keeps glancing at Steve like she wants to say something. Steve isn’t sure what that’s about, but after what he's just been through, he appreciates the silence.

When he finally makes it to his private quarters, he flops face-first onto his bed, fully clothed. Burrowing his face deep in the duvet, he tries not to think of the interview and how awkward he looked, but he wonders if it’s as bad as it felt. He tries to tamp down the urge to rush to YouTube to watch it, but then he'd want to read the comments, and that never seems to end well.

It’s moments like this that he contemplates granting J.A.R.V.I.S. access to his private quarters. He could simply have the A.I. play the video on his wall and stop it when he’s had enough. The idea of giving J.A.R.V.I.S. and by extension, Tony, that much access to his private life still makes Steve uneasy, though. So J.A.R.V.I.S. isn't connected, and putting the effort into signing onto his laptop to search for the interview still seems masochistic.

He rolls over and retrieves his phone from his jacket, checking his empty call logs, when a reminder pops up on his phone.

Shining Star at Latitude -- tonight. It’s really close. Maybe too close. It’d be nice to go to a karaoke event that’s near Steve’s neighborhood. But that also means Bucky will be there, and that both excites and worries Steve. He's even more excited for another opportunity to sing a cover song, though, especially today when he needs an outlet to unwind.

Karaoke at Latitude doesn’t start until 8pm, though, and it’s only 1pm. He orders lunch from the dining hall downstairs. It arrives quickly, and he practically inhales it while catching up on recommended youtube videos.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky jerks to consciousness, his alarm clock blaring like a Mac truck in his ear. He slams it off and hears Becca’s laughter and Justin’s deep voice in the kitchen.

There’s a pleasant cadence to whatever Justin’s saying, and in this moment, Bucky figures out that Justin probably has a crush. He stares at the ceiling for several minutes, listening to them laugh and talk, wondering how things could go south if Becca doesn’t return Justin’s feelings.

“Bucky! We know you’re up,” Becca practically sings.

Bucky groans and throws the covers off, tempted to just walk out and give them both an eyeful. It would serve them right for misusing Justin's front door key and helping themselves to his coveted, locally distributed gourmet coffee.

He throws on a robe and checks his face for any crust, then opens the bedroom door. “What did I tell you guys about coming over without knocking, or calling? Fucking rude, man. And then you just squat, drinking up all of my coffee. That shit is expensive! You’re lucky you didn’t wake me up, I could have stabbed one of you.”

Becca snorts. “No one wants your crappy stuff. And you know it’s only us.”

Justin, however, looks like he’s taking Bucky’s warning considerably more seriously. “You still sleep with an M9?”

“You know it.” Bucky gives him a wry smile, which fades when he catches Becca’s concerned eyes.

“Under your pillow? Jesus, Bucky, I thought you stopped doing that.” She turns around to drink her coffee with her back to both of them. Bucky and Justin exchange a look, but then Justin starts babbling about last night’s show and how pleased he was with the new speaker system, and Bucky gives him a grateful smile.

“Yeah, it was nice," Bucky says. "Everything was crisp. And those new LED lights were a nice touch. They make everything in there look unreal. It’s amazing how much better people look when they have a colored lights on them.”

Justin smirks. “Uh-huh, and some people just look good, regardless.”

Turning away from Justin’s probing stare, Bucky makes his way to the coffee machine.

“Speaking of which, Bucky, if you’re really ready to date again, I have a few people you may be interested in. It beats creeping on customers,” Becca teases. There’s still a little concern in her eyes, but she’s trying to shake it off, and Bucky loves her for it.

Bucky huffs and sits down. “I don’t creep on customers, Becca. They hit on me. Mostly. That last guy was throwing out major signals from the moment he walked in.”

Becca and Justin exchange a furtive glance before taking longs sips of their coffee.

“ _Anyway_ …” Bucky continues, irritated. “Did you guys bother to pick up the new laminated information cards, or do I have to remember everything?”

“Bucky, I designed those cards!” Becca reminds him. “And yes, we picked them before we came over. Also, the booking agent for the Blink 182 Celebrity Karaoke Bash called. They said they’re sending a draft of the contract for us to look over.”

A funny knot forms in Bucky’s stomach, and he doesn’t think it has anything to do with being hungry. “Shit, we probably need a lawyer. I don’t want those guys to screw us over.”

“Lawyers cost money,” Justin reminds him.

“Yeah, and did you forget I have a Master’s degree in finance?” Becca asks. “I live and breathe legal jargon for my freelance gigs. I’m sure I can handle a simple entertainment contract.”

It should be simple, but for some reason it’s not. Bucky can’t quite meet his sister’s eyes and just nod a simple agreement. “Besides, I know money is sort of tight right now, but this isn’t really about getting paid,” Justin adds. “Between our pensions, disability, and regular gigs, we’re getting by. This celebrity gig is about exposure. Once we play this event, we can demand more money on our regular circuit, and book more celebrity and socialite stuff. That’s where the real money is…”

Bucky bites his lips, considering. “Yeah, okay. Honestly, I just kind of like the way things are right now. I’m not really sure I want us to get more exposure.”

“Bucky.” Becca reaches out her hand to cover his arm. He stiffens, waiting for a lecture, but when he looks up he sees Becca chewing on her lip, like she’s conflicted, too.

“Look, I’m not saying no. I just need a little more time to think through what this means for our business. I don’t think we should just jump in just because it looks good. I’ll think about it. For now, we need to keep our heads out of the clouds and focus on the here and now. Are we all set for Latitude tonight?”

Becca and Justin groan in unison.

“I hate Latitude,” Justin complains. “It’s a bunch of stuck up suits trying to pick up young girls. They’re even worse when they’re drunk.”

Becca laughs. “Those assholes always pick songs they think will make them look dashing or badass and end up sounding like dorks.”

“Hey!” Bucky says, pointing back and forth between them. “No disparaging our customers. They wanna sing, that’s what we do. We provide a platform. We’re not there to judge folks, okay? Unless they’re complete assholes…”

Justin hums. “The suit bros at Latitude are always just at the edge of obnoxious, not quite asshole. Though I long for them to cross the line so you can put them in their place.”

Bucky covers his heart. “Justin, I find your bloodlust very disturbing.”

“Uh-huh, says the man who talks about stabbing people who piss him off as a coping mechanism.”

Bucky just shrugs. “But do I ever stab anyone?”

“Not anymore,” Justin says with a snicker, which makes Bucky laugh, too.

“You guys have a fucked up sense of humor,” Becca says with a grimace.

“Aww, Becca, we’re veterans of war,” Bucky says in his ultra-professional voice. “We’ve seen the darkest side of humanity. The counselors at the VA said that humor is a very healthy outlet for psychological trauma.”

“Absolutely!” Justin replies, changing his demeanor and voice to imitate the super upbeat lead counselor at the VA. “And I think you’re making stellar progress for a young man in your predicament, James. You keep joking around like that and you’ll be to able say goodbye to Zoloft in no time!”

They descend into hysterical laughter, holding their sides, while Becca looks on in resignation.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Contrary to what most of the team thinks, Steve’s been immersed in modern technology a while now, gobbling everything up he can learn -- including about social media. In the past few years, he’s adopted a number of old Dodger player aliases. He has a solid lurking presence in a number of online communities, including Twitter (JoeFreakinMedwick), Facebook (PeeWeeFreakinReese), and Instagram (BillyHermanIsGod)

In many ways, slipping into an online alias is like wearing a mask for karaoke. He can say what he wants without the pressure or scrutiny that would be attached to it if everyone knew his name. There’s only been a few times he wished he could make a statement as Steve Rogers, but overall, the benefits of being anonymous far outweigh the disadvantages.

For instance, at this moment, he’s engaged in a Facebook debate about fracking, but under the pseudonym of JoeFreakinMedwick, the most backlash and critique he's had to endure is from his 23 followers and the friends they have that care enough to comment.

Hours slip by when he’s immersed like this sometimes. He enjoys the freedom of debating and posting silly things without being personally judged. But when his news alerts ding several times, he goes ramrod straight, afraid to click when he sees that both Steve Rogers and Captain America are trending. When he finally brings himself to check his notifications, he sees a dozen variations of:

_STEVE ROGERS AND ROBIN ROBERTS FLIRTING?_

_CAPTAIN AMERICA GETS STUMPED ON QUESTION ABOUT WHAT HE DOES FOR FUN_

_ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES STEVE ROGERS A PRETTY BORING GUY_

The first headline is ridiculous. Robin came out as a lesbian over a year ago. Steve’s high from debating starts to fizzle as he thinks about how he looked in that interview. Frowning, Steve closes out the browser.

The ring of his cellphone draws him out of his thoughts. He looks to see Sam’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey, Sam.”

“Hey, man. You’re a hard guy to get a hold of."

Steve forcibly pushes himself away from the laptop. “Been busy,” Steve says, even though it sounds lame to his own ears.

“Yeah, I know. Tracking a Hydra operative posing as a karaoke DJ. How’s that going, by the way?”

Steve stares down at his lap, hating himself a little bit for lying to Sam. “Okay. Getting some good intel, I think. Need to stay on it and see what comes of it.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I just called to see if you’d be up for a run. If you still do that sort of thing. I mean, I realize a man like you with such a hectic and very private schedule may not be available for such frivolities as recreational running--”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Get your ass up here. I’ll be ready in ten.”

“See you soon,” Sam says with a smile in his voice.

Steve changes into sweatpants with five minutes to spare. He turns on the television and tries to at least look engrossed in a chef show when Sam arrives. Steve goes to unlock the front door when his phone notifies him Sam's there, trying not to feel guilty that his security protocols are still so much stricter than the rest of the team. How must that look to them? He has his reasons, but...

When Sam gets off the elevator, he’s grinning, all teeth, like he hasn’t seen Steve in weeks.

“You look happy,” Steve remarks.

Sam shrugs. “It’s kinda rare I get to just hang with you nowadays. Gotta cherish these moments.”

There’s a complaint buried in there, but Steve doesn’t really want to examine it too closely. He just nods and grabs his towel and water bottle. “You ready?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, man. Let’s go."

“You wanna stick to Central Park or try the Hudson route in Harlem?” Sam asks as they move to the elevator. “I’m telling you, man, it’s beautiful.”

Steve sighs. Sam keeps trying to drag him to new places to run. “Maybe some other time. I’m going out later, and it makes sense to stay in this area.”

“Going out, eh? This wouldn't’ have anything to do with your new investigation?”

And Sam’s really looking at him, assessing him in a way that makes Steve want to turn his head away. If anyone would know when he’s lying, it would be Sam or Natasha. And thank goodness she’s not here with them right now, or he might just give up and confess.

Steve looks at the floor when he answers. “Yeah.”

When Sam doesn’t say anything, Steve peeks up. Sam’s checking his ipod. Steve clears his throat, and asks how the new training regimen is going. Thankfully, Sam goes with it, letting the investigation lie go.

When they get to Central Park, Sam runs ten laps around the Reservoir Loop. Steve, meanwhile, runs twenty-five. They always take off together before Sam fades into the background as Steve zones out, caught up in the way his body works. It's still fascinating how his lungs, arms, and legs cooperate to propel him forward at such a high speed with such little energy exerted. Steve always pushes his laps, refusing to stop running until there's just a little of the burn in his lungs that once threatened to kill him. In those moments, he feels like less of an experiment and more human.

Sam is already spread out beneath a cherry blossom tree, panting and holding his stomach. Steve sighs as he approaches him. “And they call me dramatic.”

“I don’t even know why I even bother running with you,” Sam pants.

“I don’t either,” Steve laughs. “But your determination is admirable. Maybe one day --”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam groans.

Steve smirks and offers a hand, but Sam swats at him and rolls over, pushing himself up with his forearms.

“My, aren’t we touchy,” Steve teases.

“I know you’re not talking to _me_ about being touchy.”

Steve’s smirk fades as he realizes he's serious. He mentally combs through his interactions with Sam over the past week, trying to figure out what this is about. “What’s that supposed mean?”

Sam looks conflicted for a minute, like he’s not sure how to proceed. “Nothing, man. It’s just…” He blows out a hard breath. “What’s this new investigation really about? Do you really expect me to believe that you’re investigating a karaoke ring that’s secretly a smokescreen for Hydra?”

The concern in Sam’s eyes is clear as he says the last. Steve’s an ass for making him worry, but he isn’t ready to confess he’s been going bar to bar singing karaoke and hitting on the guy that runs it.

“Sam, I really have been checking out venues that do karaoke...”

“To scope out Hydra operatives?” Sam asks skeptically.

“I never actually said that.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “But you didn’t correct the assumption, either.”

Suddenly the sky looks very interesting. “Looks like it’s gonna rain.”

“Ah, come on! Stop bullshitting me. It’s me! Your wingman. I thought we were tighter than this.” Sam motions to his chest like he’s affronted.

Steve chews the inside of his lip. Lying's easier than confessing to something so ridiculous. Plus once the truth is out, he won’t be able to retract it. The team will probably want to be invited to a show, and that scenario alone has him clamping down on his tongue.

Still, Sam looks exasperated. “Okay," he says, "Okay. Hydra karaoke DJ… gotcha. Is there someone in particular you’re scoping out, or just the general operation?”

Steve swallows, and then sighs, resigned to give Sam a little something for putting up with his shit. “Both. The operation needs to be investigated, but there is definitely one person in particular that I’m scoping out.”

The grin on Sam’s face is the biggest Steve’s ever seen. It’s clear his cover has been blown. “Just, check in with me, alright?” Sam says, eyes sparkling. “Don’t want you to getting hurt out there.”

He’s grateful Sam is at least playing along. “Thanks, Sam. Really, I appreciate it. And don’t worry, it’s a low-security threat.”

Sam smirks and squeezes his shoulder. “The stakes are never low when it comes to karaoke. If you pick the wrong song, you could totally blow your cover.”

Steve waves him off. “I told you I don’t sing when I go.”

“Never?” Sam presses.

Steve opens his mouth to tell another lie, but Sam has already made him and there’s really no point in continuing the charade.

“Okay, I’ve sung a couple times. Some Corey Hart song and one by Journey.”

Sam grimaces. “I mean, Journey is alright, I guess. But if you really want to cozy up to a someone who’s into karaoke, you should sing a real classic. I guarantee if you choose a Marvin Gaye song, like say ‘Sexual Healing,’ you’ll get in this person’s good graces. It’s a definite crowd pleaser and DJs love it. I mean, everyone loves Marvin Gaye.”

“Sexual Healing?" Steve asks, trying to will the hot flush in his cheeks away. "Isn’t that a bit… explicit?”

Sam grins. “Oh yeah, it’s explicit as hell. But that’s why people love it. It’s like classy explicit. Trust me, your person - what did you say their name is again?”

“I didn’t,” Steve said guardedly.

Sam sighs. “Well, anyway, your target is gonna appreciate the way you have the crowd eating out of your hands. Plus it’s a good conversation starter.”

There’s a very knowing look in Sam’s eyes, but Steve is intent on ignoring it. “Okay, I’ll try it out,” he says, and he really means it. Maybe he’ll even sing it tonight. The prospect of snagging Bucky’s attention with a sexy crowd-pleasing hit gets him excited all over again.

Maybe Sam sees it, because he doesn't say anything else. As they’re heading inside, though, Sam looks like he wants to ask Steve something. “What’s up, Sam?”

Sam gives a small shrug. “Nothing, just there’s this new off-Broadway play. It’s a pretty big deal. It’s going to debut this weekend at the Harlem Repertory Theatre. I have an extra ticket if you’re interested?”

Steve scrunches up his face. “Oh Sam, that’s really thoughtful, but you don’t have to do that. I’m okay. Plus, I’m sure there are plenty of people that would love to go with you.”

The elevator bell for Sam’s floor rings. “Yeah, yeah, definitely. You’re right, I can’t keep the honeys off of me, especially now that my superhero identity has been blown.”

Steve chuckles and watches as Sam gives an awkward wave. The elevator doors shut and Steve's struck with a terrible thought -- was that invite was out of pity, or did Sam really want to spend time with him?

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

The event at Latitude is already in full swing as Shooting Star sets up. Every guy in the bar but Bucky, Justin, and the bartender, has on a suit. The women are either wearing suits as well, or dresses with a lot of cleavage.

The queue book is filling up and they haven't even started. Bucky goes to drop a song book off at the bar when he stops dead in his tracks.

There’s Roger approaching him -- the guy from the Overlook. He has the same stride and demeanor, like he’s trying to look smaller than he really is, but that’s still kind of impossible. His little dimples are on full display when he’s smiling, and he’s smiling right at Bucky.

“Hey, Bucky,” he says as he extends his hand.

“Hey, what’s up, Roger,” Bucky says warmly, a bit more enthusiastically than he intended. He can’t deny he’s excited to get a second chance with the guy.

“Nothing much. Saw you were doing karaoke here, and I was in the neighborhood."

Bucky wants to call bullshit, but Roger isn’t obligated to be truthful to him. They aren’t even friends. “Oh, what a coincidence,” he says instead.

“I, um, I’m glad I could catch you again. I’d like to talk more if you have some time. Maybe on your break?”

Bucky’s first instinct is to say, ‘no thanks,’ but there’s something about the earnestness in Roger’s voice and the hope in his eyes that has Bucky reconsidering everything. Maybe he jumped to conclusions too fast. Maybe Roger really is interested, but just too shy to ask for his number. Maybe Bucky will have to bite the bullet this time and be the one to push things forward.

“Sure,” Bucky says cautiously. “I’m gonna take a break in about two hours, if you wanna stick around.”

It’s a little test. Bucky learned his lesson with Grant. If a guy is really interested in him, he’ll have to at least be patient enough for Bucky to finish his set.

Roger smiles. “Sounds good. I’ll be sitting over there.” He points to the back corner of the bar. Which is funny, because that’s exactly where Grant liked to sit.

“Cool. So, you plan on singing tonight?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Roger rushes to say. “Do you have any Marvin Gaye?”

“Of course! Which song are you looking to do?”

Roger clears his throat and juts out his chin like he’s taking on a challenge. “Sxlhlng.”

Bucky smirks. This guy is adorable. Suddenly Bucky wants to see him blush a little harder.

“What was that?” Bucky asks, leaning in and cupping his ear.

“Sexual Healing, please,” Roger grits out.

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, are you asking me for sexual healing?”

“Oh my god,” Roger says, putting his face in his hands. Bucky just can’t hold it in any longer -- he giggles his ass off at this bodybuilder getting all bashful like a middle schooler.

“I’m just fucking with you, man,” Bucky finally says after he composes himself. “You want to perform Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye. Becca, can you put that in for me?”

Becca waggles her eyebrows as she looks at Roger, and gives Bucky a ‘go-get-em-tiger’ look, which prompts Bucky to scratch the back of his head with his middle finger and find something, anything, to do with his face.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky is a jerk. A sexy, charming, and devastatingly handsome jerk. Steve’s face is still burning from being asked to repeat his song selection. It occurs to him that Sam suggested the song for that very reason. Maybe Bucky and Sam are cosmic brothers, hell bent on embarrassing Steve. Either way, Steve’s going to get Sam back. He doesn’t know how, but Sam better watch out.

Steve goes to the bar to order his usual sparkling water and watches Bucky take over the stage. With each new singer, Bucky grows bolder and more flamboyant, and the audience is eating it up. They shout “Bucky!” and “I love you!” and “Show us your dick!” throughout every performance, and Bucky seems to take that energy and harness it back for himself. It’s a show of its own.

Steve was so wrapped up in his last two performances, he barely noticed Bucky while doing them. But this time, he knows the song a little better after playing it on repeat since Sam recommended it. He’ll be able to relax and keep an eye on Bucky. Maybe Bucky will even do something sexy that goes with the song.

Suddenly, he can vividly picture Bucky dancing for him - completely naked.

He shifts in his seat, uncomfortably aware that this is not the time to be daydreaming about such things. There’s no way in hell he’s singing in front of a crowd with a woody -- one about Bucky, no less.

Turning away from the view of the DJ booth, Steve takes a long sip of water and mentally runs through old Dodger stats to cool himself down. Just when Steve think he’s got it under control, someone next to him nudges him.

“Hey man, I think the DJ is calling you,” the guy says.

Steve looks back and Bucky’s holding out his arm like ‘what gives,’ which probably means Bucky’s been calling for ‘Roger’ to come up to the mic for awhile.

Shit.

Steve scrambles from the bar to make his way up to the DJ booth, where Bucky greets him with a very dramatic disapproving glare.

“Thought you were chickening out,” he says, giving Steve the mic.

“Then you don’t know me very well. Cue the music,” Steve orders with more bravado than even he expected. He’s not sure why he’s so emboldened. Maybe it’s the way Bucky keeps looking him over like he might even be interested, or maybe it's because he’s about to perform an incredibly raunchy song called ‘Sexual Healing.’ You really can’t be shy singing a song like that, so he's decided he's not. As Sam always says, you have to go big or go home.

Bucky’s eyebrows rise, like he’s surprised by Steve’s confidence. “Alright. I love the attitude. Let’s see what you can do.”

There’s a little rasp in Bucky’s voice, like he's looking forward to his performance. Steve gives a little coy smile and turns to face the monitor, showing Bucky his profile and -- hopefully -- how good his jeans fit while he's at it.

“Okay guys, we got a treat for you,” Bucky announces. “Roger here is going to sing an oldie but goodie. For the sexy and grown only. Give it up for Roger!”

When the familiar chords begin to play, Steve puts a little sway in his hips, determined to turn Sam’s prank on its head and make this his own.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

The crowd starts to ‘ooo’ and hum when they recognize the beginning of Marvin Gaye’s infamous song. Someone shouts out “that’s my fucking jam!"; people laugh. Anticipation is running high as Roger sways his hips to the opening chords like he’s about to give the room a sexy performance, and Bucky finds himself buzzing with excitement as Roger raises the mic to his mouth.

_Oh, baby now let's get down tonight_  
_Ooh baby, let's get down tonight_  
_Baby, Baby let's get down tonight_  
_Ooh, Baby, I'm hot just like an oven_  
_Ooh, Baby now let's get down tonight_

 

Bucky winces because, shit, not only is Roger offbeat and trailing behind the lyrics, but he sounds like a wounded billy goat, too. Bucky mentally ranks this performance a little worse than his last, which was already pretty bad. It’s easily one of the worst performances Bucky’s ever heard in all of his years of DJing karaoke.

Even worse, the audience at Latitude is nothing like the crowd at Overlook. Many of them are staring wide-eyed or snickering to their friends. A few kind souls nod and clap along. Bucky thinks that’s the most generous act of charity he’s seen this year.

For his part, though, Roger doesn’t seem to care. His eyes dart from the monitor to Bucky and there’s a big smile on his face as he moves his hips. It's like he’s all alone in the shower or something. He’s having fun. Bucky smiles in spite of the terrible singing. Isn’t that the fucking point of it all?

When Roger gets to the chorus, Bucky joins in to show solidarity and sway the crowd a bit.

_And when I get that feeling_  
_I want sexual healing_  
_Sexual healing, oh baby_  
_Makes me feel so fine_

Bucky adds in an extra ‘so fine’ at the end, giving Roger a flirtatious smirk and exaggerated wink. He’s totally caught off guard when Roger smirks back and strides up to the DJ booth and begins singing to him.

_Helps to relieve my mind_  
_Sexual healing baby, is good for me_  
_Sexual healing is something that's good for me_

Bucky bites his bottom lip unconsciously, and sings the next chorus right back at Roger. The crowd is getting into it.

It’s hard to take his eyes from Roger’s intense gaze, but when Bucky looks around he sees several women clasping their hands and holding their chest, looking at Roger and Bucky like they’re playing out a scene from ‘The Notebook.’

It’s pretty funny, but also exciting, not only because of the crowd’s investment in the performance, but the titillating way Roger is looking at him. Bucky comes from around the DJ booth, slow and predatory, keeping all of his focus on the man in front of him.

Roger handles the challenge like a champ, drawing even closer and giving Bucky a slow and leering once-over. The crowd is losing its mind, and Bucky hears someone shout, ‘are they gonna kiss?’ while someone else shouts back ‘hell yes!’

Bucky raises his eyebrows, asking Roger a silent question. Roger gives Bucky a ‘I’m game’ shrug and then they’re closing in until there’s only a hair’s breadth between them.

When the chorus comes back around, they’re practically nose to nose.

And then Becca shouts, “Rules #4 & 5!”

It’s like a slap to the face. He’s working, and Roger is a customer. Bucky pulls back as smoothly as he can without looking like an asshole. Roger’s face crumples, and there are even a few boos in crowd.

That seems to motivate Roger, who puts on his game face and saunters his way over to one of the tables and starts singing to some random drunk lady who has been one of the only people clapping throughout his performance. Bucky tries to ignore the flash of disappointment and returns to the booth, focusing on the list to see who is next. Becca elbows him in the side.

“That was really close. You played it off though,” she says with admonishing stare.

Bucky glances back at Justin, who’s just watching him with an unreadable expression. Okay, so he got a little reckless. But Roger is hot, and there was definitely a spark there while they were singing.

The song fades away, and Roger hands back the microphone. “Thanks, man. That was fun,” he says.

“Yeah, it was," Bucky says. They share a few seconds more of extended eye contact. “You were really something up out there.”

Becca clears her throat loudly, but it’s already over. Roger is headed to the bar. Bucky stares at his ass as he goes. It’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bucky, you wanna announce the next singer?” Becca nudges. She’s got that look on her face again.

“You know what, I think I need a little break. You mind taking over?”

“Bucky!”

He kisses her cheek. “Thanks, sis. Love you.” He hops down from the stage and strides over to the bar where Roger is sitting alone.

“Hey, Keith,” he says to the bartender. “Can you bring my usual and another of whatever it is that my friend here is drinking.”

The bartender nods, and Roger turns to look at him. His smile is dazzling.

“Thanks, Bucky,” he says. “That’s really nice of you.”

And yeah, Bucky cannot deny he’s still interested in this guy. Fuck it. He’s been a good boy this year, he deserves nice things.

“No problem,” Bucky says, grinning and leaning in. “So, pretty good set, huh?” he asks, with sexy edge of arrogance. Not too over the top, but just enough to reel Roger in.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve hums as he thinks, trying to recall something Natasha once said about luring people in by projecting cool indifference. That’s not going to work. Steve is hyper-aware of just how close Bucky is, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to the possibility of closing the distance.

“As always,” he replies.

Bucky smiles, clearly pleased. Steve clears his throat, trying to ease into the conversation he’s been imagining all day. “So, Bucky, your reputation precedes you. You’ve made quite a name for yourself in karaoke. That’s quite an accomplishment in a city this size. What got you into this line of business?”

“Eh, I really don’t have an interesting story.” Bucky shrugs. “Pension and disability from the VA weren’t coming in quick enough. I got a veteran housing voucher but that doesn’t cover expenses after you pay rent. Me and my sister used to do a lot of karaoke in the living room growing up. It was cheaper than renting a private room in Midtown. Plus, it’s kinda stupid to rent a room for two people. So I figured there’re probably other people who are interested in doing karaoke but don’t have the cash or friends for the traditional venues. I guess I got lucky that my hunch was right.”

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s leaning in until Bucky finishes. Bucky smells woody and sweet. When they were singing together, that smell almost made Steve swoon. Reluctantly, he pulls back a bit, trying to keep a respectable distance.

“That’s actually pretty impressive. Especially with your, uh...” He stops, realizing he’s about to put his foot in his mouth.

Bucky snickers. “It’s okay, you can say it. I have one arm. That’s probably why we get 90% of our business. It’s all the rage now. Hey, look at me Facebook and Instagram! I’m so cool, I support disabled veterans while getting shitfaced and singing badly.”

  
Steve thinks that was a joke, but it wasn’t very funny. “I doubt that's what people think,” he says. “You’re really good, Bucky. The way you make people feel when they’re up there, especially first timers, it’s --” Steve pauses, trying to think of the right words to describe the magical feeling of being on stage while Bucky cheers him on. “It’s really something. You know how to make someone feel they’re important, like they matter.”

Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s bicep and squeezes. It’s all Steve can do to not shiver. He takes a big gulp of his mineral water to conceal how affected he is.

“Thank you, Roger. That means a lot to me.” Bucky’s voice is smooth like butter, and his hand isn’t leaving Steve’s arm.

Despite the water, Steve’s mouth is dry. He keeps talking anyway, if only to keep Bucky’s eyes on him. “So uh, what else do you get up to when you’re not DJing?”

Bucky raises his eyebrows suggestively. Steve's halfway hopeful, halfway dreading where this line of conversation may be going.

“I like a lot things, Roger. Depends on who I’m with.”

“Okay,” Steve says, using the opening to regain his footing. “If you could have a day off and spend it in the city, what would you do?”

Bucky sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “Hmm, anything I want?”

“Anything.”

“Time of year?” Bucky asks, stroking his chin.

“Your pick,” Steve says, grinning now. Bucky’s taking this seriously.

“Okay, it’s late spring, early summer, around June. First thing I’d do is grab a cup of coffee from Daily Press and then head over to Old Stone House Park.”

Steve’s mouth drops open as he gapes back at Bucky. “You know about Old Stone House? That’s the original home of --”

“The Brooklyn Dodgers, yeah I know.” Bucky smiles. “My parents loved that place. They fell in love there, or at least that’s the way Ma tells it. But they used to take me and my sister all the time. My dad would go on about the Revolutionary War and the original Dodgers. My mom though, she’d teach us about the flowers.”

Steve slowly closes his mouth, trying to control his expression as a memory appears before his eyes like a flash of lightning.

“You alright?” Bucky asks, concern in his eyes.

Steve nods. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just...my mom used to take me there as well. The garden there, it’s the most beautiful thing.”

Bucky smirks. “See, I knew I liked you. So yeah, I’d go there first, in the morning. Maybe just sit on a bench with a cup a coffee, and enjoy the silence. It’s always quiet there. I honestly don’t think most of New York knows about it."

Steve can’t help but look at Bucky with new eyes as he whispers, “And that’s a good thing.”

Bucky leans in and whispers back, “I won’t tell anybody if you don’t.”

The laugh that tumbles from Steve feels light and good.

“Anyway, after that, I’d probably catch a slice at Paulie Gee’s before taking the van uptown to CitiField to catch the Mets. That my friend, would be a perfect day for me.”

“The Mets? Don’t meet too many Brooklyn guys into them.”

Bucky scoffs. “Are you kidding me? What other options do we have? The Yanks? Please… I’ll never board that ship.”

“A principled man. I like that,” Steve says in approval.

Bucky preens at the compliment. “I’m glad you do.”

Ensnared by Bucky’s icy blue gaze, Steve puts down his drink and stares back. The moment stretches out into thick silence. A silent deliberation seems to play out on Bucky’s face. Steve holds his breath, waiting for judgement, until Bucky gives a sexy smirk that reveals his verdict.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” Bucky says.

Steve’s excitement turns into panic.

“Ah…” He doesn’t know what to say. He’s trapped. This is the Grant fiasco all over again. For one brief second, Steve contemplates just letting the truth take its course. But that would expose him as Captain America. And Bucky wouldn’t just take his word that he’s Captain America. Steve would have to take off his mask. And he’s not going to take off his mask in a crowded bar; that would defeat the whole purpose of wearing the mask in the first place.

With nothing to be gained from an instant confession, Steve holds his tongue. With each passing second, the light in Bucky’s eyes grows dimmer, clouded by mounting assumptions. Steve wants to refute every one of them, but he knows the truth will do more damage than Bucky’s imagination.

“Or not. I guess I read this all wrong. Sorry about that,” Bucky says, his face flushing. He runs his hand through his hair and looks back towards the DJ booth where both Justin and Becca are watching closely. Steve feels even more guilty and wrong-footed.

“Look, Bucky--”

“Nah, man, I get it. Not your type, but I’m a great guy, right? You admire what I do here, and appreciate my service to the country. I must be really brave, the way I picked myself up after losing an arm. Oh, and maybe we can hang out sometime, as friends, of course. Get a coffee, during the day and definitely in public. I hear you.”

Steve shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything like that.”

But Bucky’s already standing. “Then what were you going to say?”

Steve gulps. “I’d love to give you my number but it's kind of complicated right now. But I’d still love to keep in touch. Maybe we can do email?”

Bucky snorts. “Wow, that does sound complicated. Thing is, Roger, I don’t do complicated. Enjoy your night.”

It wasn’t the goodbye Steve was looking for, but at least he didn’t get caught up in a tangled web of lies and betrayal. That’s the important thing -- at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he turns on his barstool to watch Bucky laugh it up with other patrons who flirt and buy him drinks unabashedly. Steve punishes himself watching him for several more minutes, before he finally pays his tab and makes his exit.

By the time Steve arrives at the Tower, he’s fallen deep into a funk. He rips the mask off before he even gets inside the garage. Once he makes it into his quarters, he begins to carelessly strip his clothing until he’s standing in his bedroom wearing only briefs.

As Bucky’s words ‘I don’t do complicated’ play in a steady loop, Steve abandons his nightly routine and just plops down onto his back, staring into the darkness. He wonders how things would have turned out if he really was Roger, or better yet, Steve Rogers - without the celebrity and expectations.

He smiles a little as he imagines it. Maybe Bucky would like his real face. Maybe Bucky still would say ‘let’s exchange numbers’, but in this scenario, Steve would reply, ‘Sure, can I give you a call tomorrow?’

He imagines calling Bucky, talking to him for hours, flirting and then meeting up for dinner and a show. Afterwards, Steve gives Bucky a goodnight kiss, but maybe that wouldn’t be enough for either one of them. Maybe Bucky pulls him inside his apartment, and they make time on the couch, or even in Bucky’s bedroom.

A moan fills the silence of the room, surprising Steve. So lost in the fantasy, he is half-surprised to find his hand on his dick. But now that he’s started, he closes his eyes and pictures Bucky wrapped around him, his hand clutching Steve’s shoulder to find purchase as Steve takes him apart with each thrust.

Steve gasps as he comes hard. As the temporary buzz from his orgasm fizzles, a heavy malaise settles in his chest. His hand is sticky and he’s aware he should get up to clean himself off, but he doesn’t even care. He swipes his hand in the topsheet, balls it up, and throws it across the room.

Bucky’s handsome face is still on his mind. He flips over and tries to blot it out by burying his face in his pillow. But even as he drifts into a fitful sleep, those ice-blue eyes follow him into his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> “Sexual Healing” is written Marvin Gaye and Odell Brown and is performed by Marvin Gaye.


	4. Somebody to Creep On, Er, Love

Echoes of gunfire break like a weak phone signal as Bucky ascends to full consciousness. He opens his eyes and gasps at the stark image crowding his vision. Even if it’s not real, it’s too familiar. This morning, it lingers. Bucky closes his eyes to block it out, but the picture of the village woman begging continues to taunt him, dancing behind his eyelids. He covers his eyes with a hand and rubs hard to blot it out. When he finally pulls his hand away, his vision is clear, but now his eyes are sore and watery.

He looks over and groans. The digital clock by his bedside reads 3:00pm.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

He just lies there for a few moments, soaking in the last few moments of peace, or the closest thing to it in light of his dreams. Trying to push away the lingering unease of his nightmare, his mind switches to the night before, and Roger.

The lingering disappointment is a lot like a paper cut to the heart. Grant ditching him was bad enough, but with Roger, Bucky felt a real spark. The idea that the guy was just stringing him along or even worse, looking for a side piece, nudges at some old insecurities.

But Bucky isn’t one for licking his wounds. His usual course of action is to just ignore them until they close on their own. It doesn’t always work, but it’s what he knows.

Bucky peels the wet sheets back and he slowly makes his way out of the bed. The world tilts a little as he grows dizzy. His balance is off, and he almost falls on his way to the bathroom.

He manages to take a piss without incident, which he considers a roaring success (some mornings he tries to grab his dick with his missing left hand and it takes away all the joy and relief that should come with a morning piss). His hot shower goes fairly well; he’s mastered the art of putting liquid soap on his loofah and washing with one hand.

It’s the dressing part afterwards that he hates. Putting on clothing is still a hit or miss affair. When he first came home, Becca helped him pin all of his shirts, but now he likes to pin them himself. Asking for help on something so simple seems like a step back. But he just did laundry, and one of his favorite shirts lost its pin. Bucky spends almost five minutes folding the sleeve and trying to pin it, and he gets pricked twice. By the time he’s finished dressing, far from feeling better, he’s even grumpier.

He’s halfway up the hall when he hears Becca and Justin tinkering around in his kitchen. They sound like they’re having an argument about equipment, which Bucky is convinced is some weird form of flirting. He’ll never point that out to them, though.

“Oh, there he is. My big brother. Look at that grumpy face,” Becca coos. “Look at it! Aww.”

When she goes to pinch his cheek, Bucky slaps her hand away. “You know better than to touch me before I’ve had my coffee. Speaking of which, if you guys drank the last bit, I’m going to kill both of you. And they’ll never find the bodies.”

“How are you going to kill us with one hand, Bucky? You’re good, but not that good,” Justin remarks with a challenge in his voice.

Bucky narrows his eyes. “You really want do this, right now?”

Justin smiles. “You’re stalling.”

And that does it. Bucky strides right up to Justin and picks up the plastic spork he was about to use to eat his oatmeal. Justin blocks Bucky out of instinct, but Bucky makes a slicing motion across Justin’s hand and then a stabbing motion at his chest.

Becca screeches. Bucky smirks at Justin and makes a kickback stabbing motion to show how he would finish her while he was at it.

Justin raises his eyebrows, apparently impressed. “Damn, guess I was wrong.”

“You guys are so fucked up!” Becca complains.

Bucky smiles. “Yes, and it gets worse the longer I go without coffee.”

“Okay, okay, it’s already made. Go help yourself. Just please stop being weird,” Becca says, tucking her face into her mug.

Justin smiles fondly at her until he catches Bucky’s eye, and then he’s staring down into his cup, blushing furiously. Bucky almost laughs, but manages to hold it in to save his friend's dignity. Justin is looking much better than the other night, and Bucky is relieved. He makes himself a cup of coffee, dumps copious amounts of cream and sugar into it, and takes a seat at the table.

“Bucky, have you looked over the Blink 182 contract?” Becca asks.

“Not yet,” Bucky sings in exasperation

“Well, they’re not gonna wait forever. You’re good, but there are a dozen other DJs who’d kill for that gig. Please look over it soon.”

“I will,” Bucky says, hoping that will be the end of it.

Becca is suspiciously quiet, which raises red flags.

“So…” she starts, peering at Bucky over her mug.

“So?” Bucky responds.

Becca huffs. “So are we gonna talk about last night?”

Justin shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“What about it?” Bucky asks.

Becca puts her mug down. “Bucky, you’re the one who came up with the karaoke DJ rules and made us memorize them. We saw, you were making bedroom eyes with a customer last night, in front of everyone.”

Bucky scoffs. “It was a part of the show.”

“Yeah, but you almost kissed him,” Justin says, finally raising his eyes to level a stare at Bucky.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Bucky protests. “Had to work the crowd up. You heard that guy sing. He was awful. I had to save him.”

Both Justin and Becca wait him out, skepticism clear on their faces. Bucky is determined not to break. When Becca leans in, Bucky knows she wants to turn this into an early-afternoon sleepover. But he doesn’t do sleepovers, especially with his little sister.

“Leave it, Becca. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ah, come on, Bucky,” she whines. “You left me in the DJ booth so you could go and talk to him. You owe me something.”

Bucky looks to Justin for help, but his former comrade just throws up his arms like there is no defense against Becca and her pouty mouth. Bucky glares back at Justin. For Christ’s sake, they fought wars together, but apparently, when it comes to his sister, there is no watching Bucky’s six.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky finally concedes. “You saw him… he was hot. With that smile, and he was built like fucking… Captain America or something.”

“I knew it! You love those hunky types,” Becca says smugly.

Justin grins. “And apparently they love you too. That’s like the third weightlifter gym bro that’s come in to sing and talk to you in the last two weeks.”

Bucky frowns. There was Grant and Roger. “Huh.”

“So, did you get his number?” Becca presses.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “No! I thought we had good chemistry. I mean that duet was hot and afterwards the conversation seemed to be flowing pretty good, but then he turned out to be an asshole.”

“What do you mean?” Justin asks, his expression darkening.

Bucky shrugs. “I asked if he wanted to exchange numbers and he said things are ‘complicated’ and he’d prefer doing email.”

“Ugh,” Justin and Becca groan in unison.

“I know,” Bucky sighs.

Becca gives him a sympathetic smile. “I”m sorry, big brother. It sounds like you dodged a bullet though.”

“Eh, maybe.” Bucky still isn’t completely sure. “There was something about him. He had like a good vibe, you know? Seemed like a real nice person. Honest even, but that whole email thing just felt wrong.”

“Because it was!” Becca exclaims. “I’d bet you anything he’s married.”

“Or in the closet,” Justin offers.

“Maybe both,” Bucky says. “All I know is that I don’t have time for that kind of drama. I got enough that's complicated in my life.”

“Amen to that,” Becca says, raising her mug. Both Bucky and Justin taps theirs to hers in a toast.

“Sometimes I think they see a vet with an injury and think we’re easy marks or something,” Justin says bitterly.

His words hit Bucky like a sucker punch. He hadn’t even thought of that.

“Don’t worry, we got your back, man,” Justin says, and for a second it's like they really are going back out into the field.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Panel interviews with the other Avengers aren’t as painful as the solo one-on-ones. For one thing, Tony likes to talk, and so does Sam for that matter. When they go overboard, as they tend to do, Natasha will come and do clean-up. The most Steve usually has to do is remark on purpose, goals, and rally moral support for the bottom line. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, he can actually get away with not saying a word. He and Bruce have an ongoing $50 bet on which of them can stay the most silent. Bruce usually wins, but Steve has won enough to give him hope that he will emerge from today’s press conference unscathed and with a little pocket change.

Steve sits between Bruce and Natasha, watching the press file into the room.

“Where’s Fury? How come he never has to be at any of these things?” Clint asks from the ceiling. He’s hanging by his legs from the rafters. Steve isn’t surprised, but it’s still pretty impressive.

“Get down from there,” Natasha whispers fiercely, giving him a hard stare.

Clint rolls his eyes and does a complicated hand sign. Natasha raises one warning eyebrow.

“Do you really want to try me?”

Clint just grunts and does a flip to land behind them before taking a seat between her and Sam.

“Haven’t you learned the rules yet, Junior?” Tony asks, taking a seat on the table. “Daddy Fury tells us to make nice with the rest of the world while he stays in the basement, plotting how to take it apart. Also, Papa doesn’t just have a few skeletons in his closet, he’s got a whole graveyard. Talking to the press poses the risk of a bone flying out of his mouth, and then his entire scheme will fall apart.”

“Tony, get down from there and have a seat,” Pepper chides.

Tony’s mouth drops open as he looks back at Clint, who is smirking.

“Did you two have a meeting or something?” he asks, pointing between Natasha and Pepper.

They both give Tony a deadpan stare until he huffs and climbs down to take a proper seat next to Bruce.

Meanwhile, people flurry all around them, putting out water, checking nameplates, and adjusting each of their mics. Steve fidgets as he begins to notice that several members of the press are looking directly at him in particular. He looks down the line of Avengers, trying not to think about why that may be.

Maria is climbing the short stairs to the stage. With each step, the murmurs in the audience get softer and softer, while the demeanor of the panel of Avengers grows more serious and alert.

By the time Maria takes the mic, no one is talking and all eyes are on the stage.

“Good morning, everyone. We’re glad you all could come. We’d like to thank the Associated Press for coordinating this very special and unique opportunity for the press to have a meet and greet with the Avengers. Today, we will field questions about the new S.H.I.E.L.D. and Avenger Global Partners initiative. We ask that you all abide by the guidelines which you accepted. If you cannot stick to those guidelines, you risk your invitation to any future S.H.I.E.L.D., Avengers, or Associated Press events. We will take your questions at this time."

Dozens of hands go up as the cameras began to flash. Steve takes a sip of his lemon Perrier water.

Maria points to the front row. “Debra, how about you.”

A short, frumpy woman with glasses pops up. “Hello. Debra Bailey from CNN. I’d like to know what S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers hope to achieve with the Global Partners initiative. We’ve all read the manifesto and seen some of the Avengers talk about it, but what prompted this press tour? Was it one specific incident? And would you call this damage control?”

“That’s actually three questions, Debra,” Maria says, which earns chuckles around the room. “But I’ll go ahead and answer all of them. The goal of the Global Partners Initiative is exactly what is outlined in the manifesto. We want to create better communication and understanding between S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, and the world. We have technology, we have skilled agents, and we have superheroes, but we can’t address the problems of the world alone. And yes, this was prompted by many of the recent threats we’ve encountered, and the subsequent damage. So in that way, it’s not about PR damage control, but trying to mitigate the real damage that is created when we have to come in and neutralize threats. The more eyes and ears and friends we have on the ground when catastrophe hits, the more strategic and effective we can be in saving lives.”

Steve looks at Maria’s profile in admiration and wonders for millionth time why he has to be there at all. Can’t she just answer all of the questions?

“How about you, Sir, with the baby blue tie.” Maria points to the middle of the room.

A tall, thin man with thick glasses stands. “Yes, Richard Staples from the Post. I’d like to ask Captain Rogers about his recent interview on Good Morning America…”

Steve straightens in his seat. A knot begins to form in his stomach. “Yes?”

“Well, when you were asked about hobbies, you really didn’t have a reply, even after several probes. It’s caused a bit of a stir. Some are saying that your inability to answer that question is one of the primary reasons why people around the world don’t trust the Avengers to protect them. That your idea of fun is fighting, or as you call it, avenging... especially given the fact that your present form is designed for war. What do you say to that?”

Steve clenches his fists. His jaw juts out as he prepares to rip into this guy, when Natasha’s hand slides over his underneath the table.

He takes a deep breath out of his nose. In and out. In and out. Then he answers.

“I think anyone who thinks I’d intentionally want wars to happen so I can fight doesn’t really know me or my story," Steve says. "If I could stop fighting and just go on an extended vacation, believe me, I’d relish that. But that’s not our reality right now. The world is facing new threats every day, and I and my teammates have special abilities that could be of use in fighting those threats. If I didn’t use my abilities to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves, then I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in a mirror, let alone enjoy a vacation. Which, by the way, I _am_ planning. And no, I’m not telling any of you when or where I’m going. But I hope the day comes when I can actually do it.”

Natasha squeezes his hand and some of the tension running through Steve’s body loosens, just a little. But there are more hands in the air, and reporters are still looking directly at him.

Richard Staples doesn't step down. “But --”

“Excuse me, but Captain Rogers has answered your question,” Natasha says. “And I’d also like to add that he saves more people than he fights. Steve Rogers’ number one priority on every mission is reducing casualties and making sure people are safe. You can verify that with anyone who has worked with him. Also, being built for something doesn’t mean that’s all you are good for. That’s pretty reductive thinking, and dehumanizing as well. Maria, I think we can move on.”

Maria nods. “Yes, let’s. Please remember, one question at a time and do not interrupt. And let’s give Captain Rogers a break. We have five other Avengers here on stage, take advantage of this opportunity.”

The hands fly up and wave with frantic energy, and when Maria takes the next question, it’s directed at Bruce.

Steve smirks. Maybe he’ll get his $50 after all.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

As they’re all dispersing, Natasha falls in step with Steve on the way to his bike.

“Can I get a ride?” she asks.

Steve actually stops and gapes at her for a moment. She only gets on his bike when they’re being chased, or when Steve is in the field and she needs to get to cover.

“What? It’s a nice day, I’d like to feel the wind on my face,” she says.

“To the Tower?”

She scrunches up her face and shakes her head. “Seriously? Who would want to be inside right now?”

“Okay then, where’re we going?” Steve asks. A little nervous thrill picks up his pulse. Natasha is never spontaneous without a purpose.

“Let’s take the West Side Drive to Riverside Park. I’ll nudge you when to stop.”

At least that confirms this isn’t some whim, but a very calculated trip.

Curious, Steve nods and hands her his spare helmet. Once she’s settled in and has her arms around his waist, he takes off faster than the law allows. It’s liberating, going this fast, weaving in and out of traffic with a view of the Hudson flying by. Natasha is right, the weather is perfect. There’s not a cloud in the sky and the air is the right side of cool as it caresses his face. The bike’s engine purrs as they coast along the road. It’s enough to lull Steve into a trance, aware of his surroundings but mentally relaxed.

When Natasha gives a gentle pinch to his side, he almost regrets that he has to stop. He could have ridden another fifty miles just like that.

They dismount at 72nd Street and take a long, winding stone stairway down to green grass. More steps lead them through a stone-thatched tunnel that empties out into more grass peppered by bike paths. Natasha doesn’t speak, but the silence between them is comfortable, and the previous relaxation returns, settling into Steve's bones as they head towards the promenade along the river.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, once they reach the edge of the walk.

“I used to come here all the time when I wanted to get away from...anything,” Natasha says with a knowing smile.

Steve gives her the side-eye, waiting for whatever she really had in mind when she suggested this trip. But she just stands there, watching the wind ripple the surface of the river.

It’s a nice picture. Steve wants to enjoy it, but Natasha bringing him here and standing in silence is kind of unnerving.

“You know how I found this place?” she asks finally.

“Google Maps?” Steve offers.

She cracks a smile and rolls her eyes. “No. Clint brought me here. Said it’s a good place to get out of your head. A city of 8 million people, and you might see a dozen in this park, and that’s on a good day. It’s nice to let down your guard a little and just be.”

Steve turns to meet her eyes, but Natasha is still watching the waves. It hits him suddenly how rare it is to get this kind of confession from her.

He follows her line of sight. The sun hangs high and casts an orange and yellow glow that bounces off the water. It’s beautiful. It’s beautiful and Steve always turns Sam down whenever he suggests they come here to run. It’s beautiful and Steve always takes the same congested route through midtown to get everywhere. He could have this view of the city every day if he wasn’t so locked into where he was going as Captain America. It’s beautiful and even now, in this park, Steve doesn’t know what to do with it.

“That’s easier said than done,” Steve murmurs.

“Isn’t everything?” Natasha shrugs. “Why should happiness be any different?”

Steve can’t help the skepticism seeping into his voice. “So now you’re a life coach? Better be careful, Nat, living at the Tower is making you soft.”

She narrows her eyes, and yeah, Steve’s quip had a little bite to it, but Natasha’s poking at something he thought he’d left behind at the press conference.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Clearly."

Steve huffs. “Why did you really bring me out here, Nat? To tell me I need a hobby? To get a life? Thanks, but I got the memo on that this morning.”

“Steve, you know I’m the last person who cares what you do in your spare time. But you’re my friend, and I care about my friends and their happiness. I’m not talking about some picture-perfect commercial for the American dream. In our line of work, happiness is relative and subjective, but sometimes when I look at you, I don’t see any trace of it. I’m not trying to get in your business. I just want you to know, you don’t always have to be on. You’re allowed to go off the grid. Hell, I go off the grid all the time. Maybe you should try it.”

Steve closes his eyes and tries to quell his rising frustration. “And what do I do when I go off the grid, Nat? Drop the shield and take up knitting at the local Senior’s Club? Play Bingo down at the retirement home? Shield or no shield, everywhere I go, I’m Captain America. Anyone Steve Rogers had any connection with is dead. They’re all dead.”

Natasha doesn’t reply immediately, and Steve thinks maybe she understands where he's coming from until she starts speaking again.

“We’re not dead. Sam, Clint, Bruce, Tony, and me. We’re very much alive, Steve. And I’m sorry you feel like you don’t have a connection with us. I thought we were more than colleagues.”

“Nat, I didn’t mean--”

She turns to him suddenly, a mischievous smile on her face. “I know what you meant. But you were doing that ‘woe is me’ thing and I had to snap you out of it.”

Steve huffs and puts his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to say. Natasha lays her head on his bicep.

“I’ve got tickets to a Capoeira show for this weekend,” she says softly. “Wanna come check it out with me?”

Steve looks down at the top of her head, frowning. “What’s that?”

“Brazilian dance mixed with martial arts. It’s beautiful. I think you’d dig it.”

A niggling voice tells Steve that the invite is an attempt at charity. Fix poor ole Steve, get him out of the Tower.

“How about I take a raincheck. Maybe some other time.”

Natasha doesn’t respond for several moments. When she lifts her head, something in her demeanor changes. It’s subtle, but Steve can tell the moment of confessions has passed.

“Cool. I’ll hold you to that. We probably should head back.” She's already turning to walk the path.

Steve nods and catches up to her side on the long trek back to his bike.

“So how’s the investigation going?” Natasha asks, her eyes laser sharp.

Steve might as well be hooked up to a lie detector. He turns away from her stare. “Fine. Making good progress.”

“You remember how I told you you’re a terrible liar?”

Steve keeps his eyes on the walking path.

“You’re getting better,” she says with some fondness in her voice.

It’s impossible to tell if that was a genuine compliment or a slick way of saying ‘gotcha’. Knowing Natasha, it’s probably both.

Steve sighs in defeat. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she whispers, hooking her arm into his like they’re lovers on a stroll. “So who is he?”

Steve debates how much he wants to divulge. One single breadcrumb, and Natasha will not only find the loaf it came from, but the bread maker as well. And Bucky doesn’t deserve that kind of scrutiny. Besides, giving up Bucky’s identity would be sharing too much, and Steve wants to have this part of his life just to himself.

“I wasn’t lying. He really is a karaoke DJ.”

“Name?” she presses.

When he doesn’t respond, she sighs. “Fine, but just tell me one thing, and be honest.”

Finally Steve looks over at her to meet her eyes. “Alright.”

“When you go, do you really just watch?”

Steve grits his teeth, knowing he’s going to regret this, but feeling obligated to give Natasha something. “No. I sing too. Happy?”

Natasha beams. “Yep. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

They walk on for a few minutes in comfortable silence. There’s new relief that now Sam and Natasha know his secret and are respecting his right to keep it.

“I know you don’t need my help, being the master tactician you are,” Natasha starts.

Steve raises one eyebrow. “Go on…”

“But, if I were scoping out an undercover Hydra operative posing as a karaoke DJ, I’d be very strategic about my song selection.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, trying hard not to crack a smile. “Got any suggestions? I mean, just in case I need some backup selections.”

“Well, if it were me, I’d try to charm him until he had no choice but to reveal himself. The honeypot strategy is tricky, but if you do it right, it’s a goldmine.”

“I’m listening."

“I’d go with a song that shows a little vulnerability. You know, the softer side. Hydra operatives eat that shit up.”

Steve doesn’t mean to laugh, but he can’t help it. “And I suppose you have some suggestions in mind.”

Natasha beams. “Yes. Try ‘Somebody to Love’. That should get him, hook, line, and sinker.”

“‘Somebody to Love’ by...?”

“Queen,” Natasha replies just as they reach Steve’s bike.

“Perfect,” Steve says. “I’ll do it tonight.”

Natasha hums. “Mind if I check in tomorrow, to see if it worked?”

“You can try.”

She puts on her motorcycle helmet, almost, but not quite, concealing her annoyance. “Let’s go, Rogers. I have places to go, and people to beat up.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “And they call me aggressive.”

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky's setting up at Keats, a grimy midtown bar masquerading as an Irish pub, when he spots him: another guy with a surreal Dorito shaped body. That’s 3 for 3 in just over two weeks. Are they growing these dudes on trees now?

Bucky looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. The universe has not been particularly kind to Bucky and he doesn’t exactly believe in fate or luck, but maybe after all the shit he’s been through, there’s such a thing as grace after all.

“Thank you,” he whispers to the universe, Allah, Jesus, Buddha and whoever else is up there, because hot damn. This guy really does have the exact same body type as Grant and Roger. Unlike Grant, he can actually see this guy’s eyes. Something about them make him more appealing than Roger, and that’s really saying something.

The guy flashes a smile from across the room, and Bucky is instantly hooked. He smiles back and gives the guy a quick ‘wassup bro’ head nod, and then turns to help his crew set up the equipment.

“What’s that, Bucky?” Becca asks.

“Huh?” Bucky snaps his head up a little too fast, like he’s been caught doing something embarrassing.

“You were talking to yourself. Something about chill the fuck out?” Her expression is strained, like she’s just on the brink of laughing in Bucky’s face.

Bucky blows out a hard breath and combs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, it’s fine, as long as I don’t answer myself.”

Becca laughs and looks to Justin, who’s fiddling with the speakers. “Yo, Justin! I think Bucky’s finally lost it. He’s over here mumbling to himself.”

Justin grins. “Oh, that’s nothing. You should see what he gets up to when he’s organizing the playbooks. I told ya, he’s off his rocker.”

The two of them continue to measure the ruins of Bucky’s sanity in anecdotes and snickers, while Bucky glances back at the bar. It’s silly, but he can't stop looking at the Dorito-shaped man. He'd swear he recognizes him from somewhere, though not by the face. And while it’s true Bucky’s a little nutty, he’d rather not have that bit of information floating around until he can get a drink out of the guy, so he forces himself to turn away again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up, ingrates. Just remember who signs your checks,” he grouses.

“That’s what we’re worried about, big brother. If you keep talking to yourself like that, how long will it be before you’re hiring the other Buckys to do our work?”

Justin’s cackle rings out over the mostly empty bar. Bucky cringes. He glances back at the hunky Dorito man, who is ordering his drink without noticing him. Then he turns to give both of his employees a deadpan stare. “If you two don’t shut up, I’m keeping all of tonight’s tips.”

He tries to hold his serious boss face, even as Becca strides up to him and pinches his cheek. “Oh, stop. You would never. You love us too much. Plus, we both know underneath that mean mug, you’re a total marshmallow.”

Bucky is just about to playfully nip at her fingers in retaliation when he’s startled by a tap on his shoulder. He immediately tenses, balling his right fist until it cracks. No one, no one, touches his left side. Even people who know him stay clear of it.

Lo and behold, it’s the cute Dorito-shaped guy. “Bucky, right?” the guy says, extending his very large hand.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Bucky says as he shakes the guy’s hand, his annoyance slowly fading. “And you are?”

The guy pauses for a second and then says, "Stephen." All big and bright, like saying his name is an announcement. It’s kinda weird, but also adorable.

“Nice to meet you, Stephen. You plan on signing up for the mic tonight?”

“Definitely! That’s why I came.” Stephen sounds little too eager. Must be one of those karaoke junkies. Bucky’s encountered many in his time as a DJ. Loners who go from bar to bar looking for opportunities to do their thing on the mic and woo a new crowd, with their ritualized renditions of whatever song they think makes them sound good.

It’s cool. It takes all types, and Bucky definitely appreciates those hardcore karaoke junkies who come looking for him to get their ego high, a shot of self-esteem, or just a hit of adrenaline. When a new club or bar opens and no one is really interested in bad drunk singing, karaoke junkies are the ones who keep Bucky in business.

“Awesome,” Bucky replies, giving Stephen a subtle once over. Shit, this guy’s body is better than the other Dorito types he's been seeing around. Or maybe it’s the clothing. Stephen isn’t hiding much with his tight charcoal grey Henley and tailored black slacks. Looks and money? Bucky bites his lower lip and gives his most charming grin to seal the deal and watches as the man’s eyes light up with interest.

Gotcha! The smile works every time.

But then he remembers his Rules. From the reserves of self-preservation, Bucky dials it down a notch and takes a step back towards his DJ booth.

“We uh, have a new format for choosing songs,” he says quickly, trying to drown out his inappropriate thoughts. "Just opened it today."

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we’re trying to get with the times. So now you can request songs through our online app, SongbookDJ. It doesn’t really list all of the songs we have, but if you type in a request, it’ll tell you if we have it. Just download it to your phone like this…”

Bucky whips out his IPhone to show Stephen the app. When he glances up, though, there’s a prominent frown on Stephen’s pretty face.

Bucky doesn’t like it. “Or…we could just do it the old fashioned way, and you tell me what you want to sing.”

Stephen’s bright eyes return and he flashes his 100-watt smile, which makes Bucky’s stomach flutter with something. It’s pathetic. Bucky doesn’t even know this guy. He’s just a hot guy with great body looking to do some karaoke.

“I like technology as much as the next guy, but I was sorta looking forward to going through your playbook. I heard it’s pretty impressive,” Stephen says, drawing closer.

Bucky extends his right arm towards Becca. “Hey, kid! Hand me a playbook.”

Becca huffs, bringing one of their huge playbooks over. “I told you I am not a kid, Bucky. Stop calling me that.”

“Uh-huh, and in ten years you’ll be crying because no one calls you a kid anymore. I told you, you better enjoy it while it lasts,” Bucky says. Becca rolls her eyes.

Stephen chuckles behind him. It has a nice tenor sound to it. He wants to hear that sound again.

“Am I right, or am I right?” Bucky says as he hands Stephen the playbook.

The look Stephen gives the thing is downright comical, like he ordered a cheeseburger and was given a steak. So maybe Stephen’s not a karaoke junkie then. More like a newbie.

“I know it’s a lot,” Bucky rushes to say. “Believe me, it took me forever to memorize it.”

Stephen’s eyes go wide. “You know this entire book by heart?”

Bucky does a mental cringe. Him and his stupid mouth. “Uh, I used to?” He rubs his forehead. “My memory isn’t what it used to be,” he says, trying not look as pathetic as he feels.

“Shit, I’m sorry” Stephen mutters, averting his eyes to survey the girth of the book in his hands. And yeah, it’s a big ass book, Justin likes to call it a tome.

“There’s actually over eight decades’ worth of songs in there,” Bucky explains to get past the awkwardness. “From almost every genre you can think of. You won’t find a better karaoke playbook in the entire city, hell on the entire east coast. I guarantee it,” Bucky boasts. It took him nearly a year to assemble the latest iteration of the playbook and it's one of the reasons people love it when he DJs.

Stephen’s eyes go sharp. “Eight decades? You have stuff from the 1930’s?”

“Yep!” Bucky beams.

“Like what?” Stephen asks skeptically.

Bucky shrugs, but his interest in Stephen just shot up 110%. This guy is hot, built, and interested in old music? Swoon.

“I’ve got Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, Billie Holiday, Glenn Miller…”

“No way,” Stephen says, and it sounds a little breathy to Bucky’s ears. He instinctively draws closer, catching Stephen’s eyes as he does. Damn those honey eyes.

“You like that stuff?” Bucky asks in a low and husky voice. Screw Rule #4. He’s fucking going for it.

Stephen laughs and opens his mouth like he’s going to say ‘of fucking course!’ but then his expression suddenly shutters. The 100-watt disappears as he looks down like he just caught himself doing something very inappropriate.

Bucky inwardly curses because he probably crossed a line. That last bit was too suggestive and flirty. Dammit, he should stick to the rules. They are there for a reason.

“Um, nah man,” Stephen says with a tight smile. “I mean my parents liked stuff like that, but I’m more into current music, you know?”

It sounds reasonable enough, but the words sound disingenuous, like a scripted line read by a bad actor. But why would anyone lie about what kind of music they enjoy or want to sing for karaoke?

“I was actually looking to do some Queen?” Stephen half states, half asks.

“Uh, okay, sure,” Bucky says, trying to shake off the weirdness and go back to being professional. “We have all of Queen’s hits. Check out page…. Shit, I used to know this….

“Its okay, I’ll find it,” Stephen says quickly.

Bucky wants to kick himself and his fucked-up memory, but he takes the save with a grateful head nod. “Well, take your time. You’re pretty early. Pencils and song request slips are on the tables.”

Stephen nods but his eyes are markedly dimmer and he walks away like he just messed something up, leaving Bucky staring after him, utterly confused.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Keats is an old Irish pub, or at least it aspires to be with his hard wood and dark green decor, Celtic carvings, and ‘old world’ beer selection and menu. Steve sits in his favorite spot of any bar- the back corner. This is the perfect view of the Bucky Barnes karaoke show. It’s even better than usual with Bucky making constant eye contact. Steve’s glad he picked out this particular mask. The fact that it’s sorta close to his attributes gives him a little confidence boost. While he waits his turn, Steve puts one earbud in and turns on his chosen song for the evening.

“Next, we have Stephen,” Bucky says. “He’s gonna be doing some Queen. Come on up here, Stephen!”

Steve takes a long sip of water, and walks to the booth. The monitor is sitting right next to closest table, so he’s singing directly to the crowd, with his back to Bucky. Bummer. He’d love to see what Bucky’s doing during his performance.

As Steve sings, he loses his focus on the crowd. He doesn’t hear anything but his voice as he sings lyrics that are new but all too familiar. But as he reaches the climactic ending, a new voice joins his:

_Find me somebody to love_  
_Find me somebody to love_  
_Find me somebody to love_  
_Find me somebody to love_

 

Steve turns to look up. Bucky is right behind him, singing along, his face the perfect picture of serious determination, like it’s a truth he’s really living. He draws closer to the DJ booth, so they can finish out the song together.

On his way, he gets back pats and high fives. Somehow the nods of approval and ‘good jobs’ soothe the deep ache from the night before. It isn’t gone, but it no longer sharp and debilitating.

Bucky’s voice fades out and is replaced by a younger female one. “Hey guys, let’s give a round of applause to our MC for the night, Bucky.”

The entire bar cheers and hollers. “We’re gonna keep the party going. Next on the mic, we have….”

Steve searches the crowd for Bucky when he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. He turns around and Bucky is standing right next to him, wearing the smile he keeps thinking about.

“That was pretty cool,” Bucky says.

“Yeah? Well thanks for helping me pull it off,” Steve says.

Bucky jerks his head towards the bar. “Care for a drink?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve sidles up to the bar next to Bucky. When the bartender comes over, he almost orders a mineral water but realizes that after all his work to disguise himself, he could completely lose the one thing that brings him happiness by doing something so conspicuous.

“Uh, I’ll take a gin and tonic,” he says instead. “And a whiskey for my friend here.”

“How did you know I like whiskey?”

Steve winces, scrambling hastily for a cover. “You look like a whiskey kind of guy, I guess.That was uh, some show back there. You keep playing backup like that for me, maybe we could take this show on the road.”

It’s a lame joke. Bucky’s snicker-snort is surprising.

“Yeah, okay, buddy. I’ll keep that in mind. But let’s get something straight. If we ever take this show on the road, I’d be the headliner.”

“You’re right, forgive me.” Steve gives Bucky a slow once over. “You’re definitely the star here.”

He tries to swipe his bottom lips with his tongue in the same slow sensual way Bucky often does. It’s not natural. He has the distinct impression he looks like he’s imitating a thirsty dog.

Which is why it’s funny when Bucky blushes in response. “Thanks. You’re um, pretty hot stuff yourself.”

Bucky's giving him some serious eye contact. For some reason, the spark between them is ten times more charged than any of their previous encounters. Is it the new mask? If it is, it would be a serious ego boost -- if Bucky is attracted to Stephen, then he has to think Steve’s real face is hot.

The bartender hands them their drinks and Bucky reaches for his wallet, but Steve beats him to it, handing her a crisp $50 bill. “Keep the change.”

The bartender nods and gives Steve a grateful smile.

“Big spender, huh?” Bucky remarks.

“Service workers are seriously underpaid. I like to show them my appreciation whenever possible."

Bucky holds up his hand. “Hey, you won’t find any argument here. Me and my sister were raised by union workers. We both participated in last month’s minimum wage protest down on Wall Street.”

Steve’s stomach does a little flip. He mentally adds another attribute to the growing list of reasons why Bucky Barnes is swell. “Unions are important,” Steve says. “I used to be an active supporter. I even marched in a few protests.”

Bucky leans back. “Oh yeah? What changed?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you ‘used to be’ a supporter. Why’d you stop?”

Steve mouth goes tight. No matter how many times he speaks to Bucky, there’s always a point in the conversation where his real identity waits like a tripwire.

“I didn’t stop,” Steve finally says. “I still support unions. I’m just not as active anymore.” It’s the truth.

“Hmm. So which protests did you march in?”

Steve braces himself. “Would you believe me if I told you I participated in the Communist Party labor protest held in Times Square?”

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “No shit?”

Steve nods, and takes a long sip of his drink, waiting for the million dollar question that will finally push the true confession out of him.

“That’s awesome, man!” Bucky squeezes his shoulder. “I didn’t even know The Communist Party were very active. I mean, I know they’re a thing, I see them listed on the ballots when I vote, but I never hear about them protesting or anything. Not that I would know because I’m not a communist. But I’m cool with anyone who is. I don't think communism is evil or anything. It’s just not my bag. I’m totally rambling now, aren’t I? Sorry. It’s just that it’s really cool, and sort of unexpected. Why aren’t you active now?”

Disappointment and relief unfurl, leaving Steve off-kilter. Once again, he’s unprepared for where this conversation is going. Bucky was supposed to ask him when, or ask him to prove it. It's almost like he wants to be found out, which can't be right.

“Actually, I was never a Communist. I just believe in the labor rights they were fighting for. I’d love to protest more, but I guess life just gets in the way, you know?”

“Yeah, ain’t that the truth.” Bucky nods. “Too bad, though. We need more people going against the grain, you know? Bunch of sheep out here. Shit’s all fucked up and no one cares about anything but their Starbucks, selfies, and Instagram.”

Steve chuckles. “That’s the second time you’ve slammed social media. You have something against it?”

Bucky cocks his head. “Second time? I’ve never discussed social media with you.”

Steve freezes. There may as well be a giant sign on his face that says “LIAR.”

“Really?” he coughs. “Oh, maybe I just have you confused with someone else. So many people complain about it now.”

The suspicion on Bucky’s face falls away as he shakes his head with a wry smile. “Yeah well, it’s out of control. I mean, it’s cool and all, for some things. We use it for our business and it’s served us well. I’m just not into the whole ‘look at me everyone, here’s a pic of what I had for breakfast’ part of it.”

“I understand. I guess like anything, it can be taken to extremes. But I do think social media is good for staying in touch and learning about people very different from us. If you think about it, the world has never been more connected. And for some people, it’s the only way they can really form connections to others.”

The frown on Bucky’s face shouldn’t read to Steve like a personal insult, but it does. It reads like pity. Steve instantly wishes he hadn’t said it.

“That’s pretty sad, man,” Bucky says.

“I guess it depends on your perspective.” Steve takes a long sip of his drink. It burns going down. Steve is grateful for the minor distraction.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. If you’re into social media, that’s cool. It’s just, ah shit,” Bucky runs his hand through his hair and looks down.

“What?”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I mean, we just met. It’s just that for some reason you’re really easy to talk to. It’s not often I get to really ‘talk’ to people, like have a real conversation, besides my coworkers.” Bucky doesn’t know it, but he stole the words right out of Steve’s mouth. “Anyway, what I meant to say was I’m not against social media. But I just got back from a bunch of time overseas like eight months ago. I did back-to-back tours and the only thing I had over there to kept me connected to my family here was the fucking computer. I couldn’t wait to get back home, get back to talking to them. Not on some shitty monitor, but for real. So I guess for me, using technology is always gonna seem inferior.”

Steve knows he should say something, but Bucky’s words scraped an old wound. He feels ripped open and raw. He feels like if he talks right now, everything might come gushing out. He can’t let that happen before he tells Bucky who he really is.

“I get it," he manages to say. "I really do.”

There’s a little quirk at the corner of Bucky’s lips as he studies Steve's face. “You know, I actually believe you.”

Steve tightens his grip around the tumbler in his hand and takes a deep breath. After several missteps over the last week, Bucky is somehow still talking to him, and they still have amazing chemistry for two people who don’t really know each other. Maybe this time instead of dodging deceit, he can trust his instincts and embrace the truth. It will require taking Bucky somewhere less crowded, somewhere Steve can confess his sins. He can only hope Bucky will give him absolution and a shot at real friendship -- maybe even more. Steve’s almost afraid to hope, but he can’t deny the idea has already taken root. Playing it safe will no longer do when he feels the way he does. He can't keep jerking either one of them around.

“Bucky, um, I don't know about you, but I really feel a connection here. I want to tell you more about myself, but this doesn't seem like the place. If I wait around until you're done work, would you mind it if I took you out for a bite to eat after you’re finished DJing tonight?”

Bucky bites his bottom lip again, but he’s also nodding. Hope crackles like a firework within Steve’s chest.

“I’d like that,” Bucky says. “Maybe, uh, maybe we can even cut out of here now, if you’re ready.”

Steve’s eyes pop. “Uh, sure. Yeah, we can do that.” Steve’s a bit stunned. This is really happening. Like, right now. Where will they go? He doesn’t really know this area that well. He's racking his mind for a suggestion he can make, but a voice calls from across the bar--

“Hey Bucky! We have a problem over here.”

“Well, handle it then,” Bucky calls back.

“It’s an emergency. Has to do with Becca,” Justin says. He looks concerned. Steve looks up at the DJ booth, and see that it’s completely vacant. There’s regular music playing over the speakers as the customers are talk amongst themselves.

Bucky curses and gives Steve an apologetic half smile. “Sorry, man. As much as I want to, I can’t. Story of my life. Um, I gotta go, but hopefully I’ll see you around. You know where to find me, okay?”

And then he’s gone. Justin's waiting for him, throwing a truly wicked glare at Steve before leading Bucky around the DJ booth to a back door that Steve never noticed until it opens.

In two seconds flat hope turned into regret and frustration. None of this would have happened if Steve would have just taken off the mask and revealed himself. But revealing himself would mean giving up karaoke. Steve’s not sure if he can ever be himself, enjoy the one thing he loves, and have a shot at Bucky. Why does something as mundane as going into a bar and singing a cover song have to be so damn complicated for him?

The tumbler in Steve’s hand shatters. A waitress runs over in a panic, asking if he’s alright. Steve nods and apologizes, wiping his hand.

He was this close to going out on a date with Bucky and finally confessing his identity, finally ending weeks of uncertainty. Still furious with himself, he leaves the bar without bothering to see if Bucky’s coming back.

It takes the entire seven-minute ride from 2nd Avenue to Park for Steve to even think about Bucky’s sister. His disappointment had clouded any concern he had for her well being.

Who is he? Who does he think he's trying to be?

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky rushes behind the DJ booth to the the back room where they store chairs, expecting to find Becca hurt. But as the door shuts behind him, Becca looks just fine.

She’s just standing there with her hands on her hips and that judgemental expression. “Again, Bucky?”

And Bucky really doesn’t want to talk about this. He turns around to leave, but Justin is leaning against the exit, with crossed arms and a disapproving frown.

“I was just…” But when Bucky stops and looks between the two of them, he gives up. “Okay, fine. Look, I know you guys care, but I can take care of myself. The guy was actually really nice.”

“You’re not taking care of yourself if you cruising for hookups with customers - while you’re supposed to be working, I might add." Becca’s voice is getting shrill the way it does when she’s scared. "I mean, what happened to the Rules?!”

“Becca, calm the fuck down. Okay, first of all, aren’t you the one always complaining that I never let you DJ? I trust you and Justin to handle things. Second, I’m not some doe-eyed virgin. I’m more than capable of neutralizing threats.”

“Physical threats maybe,” Justin says softly.

Bucky can’t even look at him. They can’t be talking about this. “What are you two, my psychologists now?”

“We just want what’s best for you. This isn’t like you, to get swept off of your feet by strange men. It’s like the third one in a row!” Becca points out.

“Well maybe what’s best for me right now, Becca, is finding someone. You and Justin have each other…”

They both look shocked he voiced that out loud, but Bucky’s tired of them playing footsies around each other. Also, he can admit, he’s a little jealous that they have someone to play footsie with at all. “I don’t have anyone," he reminds them "And I haven’t dated or gone out with anyone in a very long time. Jesus, I wasn’t gonna try and marry the guy. I just want a nice time out with someone. Do you mind?” Bucky realizes his voice has gone up several decimals, but it’s satisfying, to get it out. He’s been holding in this particular frustration for a while.

Becca’s eyes grow softer with sympathy. It makes Bucky want to scream. “No, I don’t mind, Bucky. We want that for you too,” she says. “But use your eyes. That guy has the same body type as the last two guys, and they all come in and sing and then flirt with you. That can’t be a coincidence. It's shady as fuck. Think about it.”

Bucky swallows. Becca is voicing a niggling suspicion he didn’t want to confront.

“If I had to guess,” Justin offers, “I think this is some sort of bet. Probably bunch of gym bros being dicks, trying to see which one can score with you first. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a good-looking guy, but pulling three bodybuilders back to back? Nah, man, something’s up.”

Bucky covers his face with his hand, embarrassed. “Fuck, look at me. I bet they’re laughing their asses off.”

“If I see that guy or any of his friends in here again, I’m gonna personally kick all of their asses,” Justin says, cracking his knuckles.

Bucky groans and extends his arm out to Justin, who comes to him and gives him a small hug. “Thanks, man.”

Becca joins them, wrapping her arms around both Bucky and Justin. “We’re not going to let you get played like that, big brother. We love you too much. If you want to date, I’ll help you look for some decent men.”

The laugh that bubbles out of Bucky is watery. He tries to rub his eyes against Justin’s shirt before either one of them can see him. “He was really hot, though.”

Becca and Justin just groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> “Somebody to Love” was written by Freddie Mercury and performed by Queen


	5. Crazy Train

Bucky wakes up with his heart in his throat. He swears he can still see and smell smoke. He coughs, and it expands in his nostrils, climbing down into his lungs to choke him. Clenching the mattress, he keeps his breathing shallow, refusing to let asphyxiation knock him unconscious. After several minutes that stretch out like hours, his fingers begin to recognize the springy padding. The too-soft sheets, now soaked with sweat, remind his skin that he is not in Kabul or Mazar-e-Sharif. This is not Afghanistan. He’s in his quaint little one-bedroom apartment in Bed-Stuy. And the voices coming from the kitchen don’t belong to villagers caught in the cross-hairs of a war no one understands. The light, airy woman’s voice is Becca’s, and the gruff laugh that follows belongs to Justin.

It’s enough to break his paralysis. He wipes his face, wondering why the fuck he takes medication and goes to those group meetings if they can’t really make the nightmares go away.

He closes his eyes and blows out a harsh breath, listening to his sister and Justin talk. There’s a whole lot of giggling, mostly from Becca, but Justin is laughing a lot too. It loosens the tightness in Bucky’s chest a little, to hear them happy. There’s still an ache there from the shocking realization that Grant, Roger, and Stephen might all know each other and colluded to get Bucky to go out with one of them. All for a fucking bet. It’s the only explanation that really makes sense.

There was a time when Bucky could read anyone like an open book, no matter how many walls they put up or tricks they used. But in the stark light of day, his excitement about the connections he shared with Grant, Roger, and Stephen--

Bucky gasps loudly.

Grant. Roger. Stephen.

Stephen. Roger. Grant.

Steven Grant Rogers.

He stares at the ceiling with disbelieving eyes as he repeats the name over and over again.

“No. Nope. No. Absolutely not,” he says to himself.

Sure, all three guys had the same Dorito body type, but there’s no way one guy could have three different faces. And why in the world would Captain America do something like that anyway? Steve Rogers is a national hero, he wouldn’t go trolling bar to bar in a disguise just to sing karaoke.

And besides, Bucky’s pretty certain Steve Rogers does not lie.

Bucky laughs at himself. “Pathetic.” He wonders if he’s so desperate that he’s misremembering these guys to live up to a stupid fantasy. No, Justin is definitely right. This has to be some type of ruse, and the way the names stack up to spell his childhood hero and match his body type is probably completely intentional and orchestrated.

He has a five minute pity party, lamenting the state of his love life and his very blue balls, and then shoves last night on a mental shelf.

“Get over it,” he mumbles to himself before glancing at the clock on his nightstand. 2:00pm. “Ah, hell,” he groans as he stands, doing an odd sort of twist that leaves him flopping like a fish off his bed and into an unstable crouch. It’s mornings like these that he’s thankful to wake up alone.

After jumping in the shower to wash away the lingering stench of bad dreams and anxiety, Bucky wrangles himself into some jeans. It still takes entirely too long to put on pants with one hand, but it’s faster than it was eight months ago. The familiar sway of vertigo stops him as he emerges from the bedroom. He focuses on the carpet and breathes deeply before carrying on. When he reaches the kitchen, Becca and Justin are sharing the morning paper and snickering.

“Please tell me you started coffee. Also, what are you two goofballs reading?”

“Oh my god, Bucky, look at this--” Becca says, standing up abruptly to push the morning paper underneath his nose.

Bucky rears back. “That’s not coffee, Becca.”

She rolls her eyes and drops the paper on the table so she can make him a cup. That she's doing it in spite of her irritation warms Bucky’s heart. “Have I told you how much I love you, kid?”

“Only when I make you coffee,” she sings.

Bucky shrugs. It’s true.

Justin leans back in his chair, snatching the newspaper from the table. “Dude, you have to check out this out, though. The press is totally dog-piling Captain America.”

All of Bucky’s happy coffee thoughts immediately evaporate as he moves to snatch the paper from Justin. There’s a huge picture of Steve Rogers on the front. His hair is wind-blown, and his face flushed. He’s wearing the stealth suit, which is Bucky’s favorite. He tries to start reading the article beneath, but the picture keeps drawing his eyes to it.

Someone chuckles. He glances up. Justin is sporting a shit-eating grin.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Aww, what’s the matter?” he cooes. “Are they talking bad about your crush?”

“I don’t have a crush,” Bucky defends, though his cheeks grow hot.

“Yeah, right. Every guy you take an interest in has this exact body type. It’s been that way since I met you.”

“Way before that,” Becca chimes in. Bucky groans and hides his face in his hand.

“Just admit it, Bucky,” Justin says. “You wanna bone Captain America. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, I’m straight, but even I’d blow the guy.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky leans in. “Is that right? Would you say that again, on tape?”

Justin’s eyes self-consciously slide to Becca. “Say what?”

Bucky snorts and returns to the paper. He forces himself to ignore the picture and read the headline again.

_Who Is the Real Steve Rogers? The American People Deserve to Know_

It reads like something from the cover of _The National Enquirer_ , not a legitimate news publication. Bucky reads on. Every couple of lines he finds himself scoffing and huffing.

“Listen to this,” Bucky says before reading a passage out loud. “The only thing we learned at the latest Avengers’ press conference is that outside of defending the American people, Rogers really has no life or hobbies. For many people, this has raised speculation about who is the real Steve Rogers - an overzealous hero who is consumed by his commitment to the greater good, or is he a war machine using the title of hero to mask a bloodlust for vigilante justice and destruction?”

Bucky drops the paper like it’s trash. “Oh, fuck this guy!” he declares.

“It’s a woman,” Becca corrects.

“Yeah? Well fuck her too,” Bucky says. “It’s sensationalized garbage. And _The New York Post?_ Really? I can’t believe you guys still read this crap.”

Justin’s chair slams forward and he covers his mouth with both hands to highlight dramatic wide eyes. “Or... what if it’s actually true? Could it be that Captain America is not as wholesome and American pie as we all thought? Bucky, what if he’s a...” He stage whispers, “bad boy?”

Bucky wants to defend Captain America against the paper’s insinuations and Justin’s mockery. But he finds the possibility -- that the real Steve Rogers is more complex and dirty than a beacon of everything good -- pretty damn interesting. If Bucky’s being honest, the idea of a Steve Rogers being some kind of bad boy is hot. Enough to make his mouth so dry he has to clear his throat.

Becca hands him a mug full of steaming hot fresh ground goodness and Bucky moans his gratitude. He’s so desperate for caffeine he doesn’t even care that he burns his tongue a little.

“You know, I think it’s actually kind of sad,” Becca says. “He doesn’t seem to have any sort of life outside of fighting. Like, what kind of existence is that?”

Bucky huffs. “We don’t know that. If history has taught us anything, it’s that Steve Rogers is a very private person. I’m sure he has tons of interests. Besides, the press is pretty dumb when it comes to him. If you watch his interviews, he’s always saying slick shit. They just never catch it. His humor goes completely over their head.”

“He’s funny?” Justin ask skeptically. “Could have fooled me. He comes across as very straight-laced.”

“You mean boring,” Becca laughs.

Justin chuckles. “Exactly. When he’s not fighting or helping old ladies cross the street, I bet he collects stamps and watches crap like The Price Is Right before turning in at 8pm.”

“Hey, I love The Price is Right,” Bucky defends.

“Of course you do,” Becca says. “You’ve been an old man since you were, like, sixteen, Bucky. Remember how sad you were when Mom accidently threw out your Bing Crosby and Perry Como records?” She cackles.

“Low blow, Becca. That’s a painful memory.” Bucky pouts. “I still don’t understand how Ma mistook those records for trash. They’d be worth a real mint right now.”

“Not that it’d matter. You wouldn’t sell them,” Justin points out.

Bucky shrugs. “True.”

Justin and Becca just look on with fondness. “You guys are a bunch of saps. Seriously. Stop looking at me like that; you’re cramping my style.” He rises from his chair to rinse out his cup.

“Hate to break it to you, big brother, but you have no style,” Becca says with false graveness.

Bucky throws a wet dish cloth at her head, hitting her right in the ear, and smiles. 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

The Race for Vets is supposed to be a fun PR event. Steve knows this. They all know this. It's a celebrity exhibition to raise money for injured veterans. Everyone from Elaine Thompson to Usain Bolt is set to compete. Pepper made sure to emphasize the exhibition part, reminding the team that the only real winners are the veterans.

Steve cares deeply about the cause, of course, but it’s still a race. It's something he’s reminded of when Tony spends nearly an hour in a heated exchange with the event’s organizers about competing in his suit. The organizers are no match against Tony Stark, and cave once he points out that Steve is competing with an enhanced body designed by the federal government.

Once the event organizers bend to Tony’s will, the floodgates open. Sam announces he will be racing with his wings and jetpack and Clint promises to do aerials all the way to the finish line. Natasha and Bruce just look on in bored resignation, like they both saw this coming. In the end, the organizers are so flummoxed by The Avengers' insistence to use their full enhanced abilities and equipment that they create an entirely new exhibition race just for them.

Steve’s excited. The day of the race, the streets are cordoned off like they are for the NYC Marathon, only the turnout for this event is three times more crowded, rivaling the Times Square Ball Drop. The press is in full force, and it takes considerable manpower from the NYPD to keep press and general public at bay during the race.

The race starts with a gunshot and they’re off. No one, absolutely no one, can follow Tony as he zips around the perimeter five times within ten minutes. The helicopters try to follow Sam, and he plays up to them, doing pretty flips and dips, but his acrobatics are too hard to keep up. So the news crews focus on Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and Steve. Clint draws a pretty good crowd of news vans as they try to capture his aerials and layups. He does some cool tricks around historic landmarks and on uneven surfaces. Natasha and Bruce keep a steady pace, meanwhile, not really racing, more of a jog. When asked if they’re worried about losing, Natasha just smiles. “There are no losers when you’re running for injured veterans,” she tells the camera.

Steve’s locked in, ignoring all of it. He focuses on his breathing and tries to break his personal time. When he finally pulls into Tavern on the Green, the clock indicates he achieved his goal by two minutes and the reporters are clawing to talk to him.

A cop pulls at a young woman holding a microphone, but Steve waves the officer off. “Go ahead, Ma’am.”

“Captain, Gail Peterson from Runner’s World," the reporter says, rushing to speak. "You beat your personal record, how does that feel?”

Steve smiles. For once, it’s genuine. “Great. That’s what I set out to do today. I’m glad I got to raise money for a cause I care about while also pushing myself.”

"Captain, over here!" says a young man with curly hair and glasses standing just beyond the barricade. Sam is giving Steve the ‘stop it now’ face, but Steve’s relaxed and in a good mood. The first reporter’s question was painless. He can do this.

“Yes, you,” Steve says.

“Captain, Michael Avery from CNN News, how are you going to celebrate? A trip to Disney World? A night out on the town?”

“Both of those sound appealing,” Steve says with a smile.

“Yes, Captain,” Michael says. “But the real question is, would you ever really do something fun like that? Something not attached to a mission or charity event?”

The smile Steve offers comes a little harder, but he manages. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you guys.”

Several people shout out new questions, and there are flashes from cameras.

“Stay behind the barricade,” one of the cops reminds the reporters.

“Captain, please, please, one more question!”

“Steve,” Sam says, squeezing his shoulder.

More out of defiance than kindness, Steve points to the young man waving his hand to ask the last question.

“Yes?”

“Sources say you and the Black Widow are dating. Can you confirm this?”

The crowd grows quiet and even the cops guarding the barricade fix their eyes on Steve, waiting for his answer.

Steve’s jaw sets and begins to jut out. He can’t be bothered to help it, even though he knows it will be used once again as proof that he’s defensive. He looks past his teammates to the door of the Green Tavern, ready to make an exit

“Okay folks, show’s over,” Tony declares. “I won. Sam came in second. Everyone else gets a participation ribbon. Did you get that? I won. Make sure you write that down.”

Reporters are still shouting Steve’s name, but they all sound like hyenas and Steve is done with them.

“You know what, guys?” Tony declares loudly. “This is why no one wants to talk to you - you’re a pain in the ass. I mean I’ve been telling you that for years, but maybe if a national icon ignores you, you’ll finally get it. Let the man have some air!”

“Captain!”

“Let’s go,” Steve murmurs, practically marching towards the Tavern’s private exit.

“Speaking of the press and celebrity gossip,” Tony shouts. “I have a beef to pick with you guys about my sex tape…”

“Tony!” Pepper’s scandalized voice is the last thing Steve hears before the door to the Tavern’s private lounge slams shut.

Sam falls against the door and bangs his head a few times. “Well, that was a shitshow. Why is the press crawling up your ass lately?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Steve says.

Sam sighs. “I suppose they’re always looking for a new punching bag, and your squeaky clean image was just begging for some dirt. The funny thing is, though, they’re fucking with you because you don’t have anything scandalous going on!”

He winces as soon as he says it and Steve tries not to take it as a personal insult, even though it feels like a figurative punch. To add insult to injury, the sympathy in Sam’s eyes makes Steve uncomfortable, so he turns his back on him. There’s a knock on the door, and Sam looks ready for a fight.

“It’s us,” Pepper voice calls.

Sam opens the door and Tony swaggers in with a devilish grin and Pepper behind him. Her usual composed demeanor is looking a bit frayed, with her hair wild and a prominent blush to her cheeks.

“What the hell was that?” she launches in, turning furiously to Tony. “I can’t believe you brought up the sex tape. We promised we’d never mention that again.”

Tony frowns. “What I said was I would try not to ever bring the tape up again, unless it was absolutely necessary. This was such an occasion. Cap needed my help.”

"I didn’t need your help. I can deal with the press fine on my own.”

Pepper looks long-suffering as she sighs. “Steve, just remember what we talked about,” she says, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I think, for now, less is more. You did the right thing by not responding. At least until this obsession with your private life blows over.”

“What the hell is it, anyway, with everyone’s sudden interest in Cap’s social life?” Tony asks. "Not everyone can be exciting. No one in their right mind would expect you to be the life of the party. It's like they think you have a secret party identity or something.”

Sam begins coughing.

Tony’s head whips around. “What? What's this?”

“Nothing,” Steve says quickly. Too quickly, really. Tony’s smirking again.

Pepper frowns. “Steve, please tell me it’s legal.”

Steve’s eyes dart from Tony to Sam. “Um, it’s off the books. Nothing to worry about.”

Pepper looks to Tony, who just smiles like he thinks he knows something. “Cap, it’s been a rough week for you," he says, "and for the team too. What we all need is a little R’n’R. How about we go out on the town, have a few drinks, chill out? My treat. I’m thinking one of those quaint little bars in Hell’s Kitchen. I hear that some of these places just have the best karaoke!”

If looks could kill, Tony would be dead from Steve’s glare. Instead, Tony keeps on smiling. He even has the nerve to bat his eyelashes as if to say ‘come at me, bro.’

“That’s actually a great idea, Tony!” Pepper says. “The press tour is getting a bit intense. I think everyone is feeling it. You guys are always cooped up in the Tower when you’re not doing Avenger business. A break sounds good.”

Steve tries to think fast. “Um...”

“What’s that, Cap?” Tony cocks his head, his eyes mischievous. “You can’t wait? Me either! Do you have a particular bar preference?”

Steve sighs. “No.”

Tony claps his hands. “That’s okay. I have a few in mind.”

“I mean no, Tony,” Steve says firmly. "I’m not going out to do karaoke with you, or the team. Find another activity.”

The pout on Tony’s face would normally make Steve want to punch him, but for some reason, it’s just making him feel like an ass. Maybe it's because Tony’s disappointment is being mirrored by both Sam and Pepper. But karaoke is the only time Steve can escape the weight of being Captain America. He’s not about to ruin his only refuge to please Tony or anyone else.

Tony looks back at him for a moment before apparently deciding something. “It’s alright, Cap. I suppose we all need our me-time. It was just a suggestion. Maybe some other time?”

Steve exhales, a little surprised Tony isn’t gonna run this into the ground. “Sure.”

"Can you just do me one favor?”

“What?” Steve asks warily.

“Just, if you ever find yourself in a karaoke bar--now, or later--make sure to have some Ozzy Osbourne under your belt. I assume you don't know him, or any music really, due to being, you know, old. Crazy Train is my favorite. So underrated for karaoke.”

“Crazy Train?”

“It’s usually my theme song, but I think it suits you more right now. You know, with all the…craziness. You can have it.”

Steve narrows his eyes. He doesn’t pretend to understand what goes on in the mind of Tony Stark, and he learned long ago not to even try.

“Anyway," Steve says, looking for the door. "I’d like to leave. No chance I can avoid the screaming throng of reporters, I guess."”

Pepper points. “Over there. Leads to a secret tunnel that will put you out on the other side, a block from the Tower.”

Steve gives Pepper a grateful smile. "Thank you."

“Yeah, you do that, Cap," Tony says. "We’ll just wait here for Bruce, Natasha, and Clint. Get in a couple of rounds of golf, now that we've won a race already today.”

“Oh, you’re on.” Sam says, and as Steve leaves, it's to the sound of Pepper’s exasperated groan.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky's an hour into the karaoke set at Promenade when he shows up -- Stephen, the Dorito-shaped asshole from the other night. Bucky's dumbfounded that they haven't given this up yet. Why are they targeting him? Maybe it's because he only has one arm, or maybe they’re just homophobic assholes. Whatever the reason, Bucky is beyond pissed. It’s bubbling from his gut and extending to his fist. He’s so consumed with anger that he almost misses the song transition.

The woman currently singing finishes her song and hands Becca her the microphone. Justin nudges Bucky to get his attention. “What? Oh. Let’s give a hand to Samantha. What a lovely voice, huh? Next up we have David. David, come on up here.”

The next guy takes the mic and Bucky turns the music on, but only a few seconds into the song when Bucky’s eyes once again seek out that Dorito figure.

He doesn’t have to look far. Stephen is approaching the DJ booth. Bucky looks over to Justin and Becca, but they've already spotted the guy and are glaring daggers.

Well now, this should be interesting.

Bucky prides himself on staying professional, at least most days. And he promised to be better about sticking to the Rules. That means no cursing out customers, especially in front of other customers. That would not be a good look. But in fact, the more Bucky thinks about it, the more he wants Stephen to try and make a pass at him again so he can hand the guy his ass.

“Hey, Bucky! How’s it going?” Stephen says.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky sees Justin moving fast towards them. Bucky puts out his hand to stop him.

“I got it, don’t worry, guys,” Bucky says, giving Justin a wink and Becca an easy smile. They exchange a concerned look, but hold back, watching on closely. “How can I help you?” Bucky says to Stephen.

Stephen’s brow furrows in confusion. “Ah, do you remember me? We spoke other night. We were going to head out for a bite to eat.”

Bucky scrunches up his face like he’s trying to place it. "Uh…"

“My name is Stephen.”

“Is it really? Are you sure?” Bucky asks.

Something flickers in Stephen’s eyes. Bucky can’t tell if it’s panic or if his poor little ego is hurt. He really doesn’t give a damn. Fuck this guy.

“I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?” Stephen asks.

“Did you?” Bucky asks back.

Stephen glances from Bucky to Becca and Justin. “I get the feeling you’re not happy with me.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, and contemplates laying into the guy, but they’re still in view of a crowd, even if their voices are muted by the music. So he breaks out his winning smile and shrugs.

“Not sure what you mean. I’m great.”

Stephen searches Bucky’s face, but Bucky’s not giving anything away, especially right now. If things are going to go down, it will have to happen later.

“Okay, if you say so,” Stephen says. “Um, I’d like to put in a song request.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says. “Let me guess - Creep by Radiohead, or I know! Never Gonna Get It by En Vogue?”

Stephen doesn’t even try to laugh it off. He just stands there, staring, looking like he’s embroiled in some silent war with himself. And Bucky really doesn’t have time for this. The longer he thinks about what this douche and his friends did, the angrier he gets.

He leans in to talk in Stephen’s ear. “Look asshole, I don’t know what your deal is, but don’t start any shit right now. Just sing a song, and we’ll talk it out later, alright? Now what do you want me to put on?”

Stephen draws back like he’s stunned, but then his face shutters and he gives a curt nod. “I’d like to request ‘Crazy Train’ by Ozzy Osbourne, please. Thank you.”

“Got it,” Bucky says, drawing his eyes away from Stephen and busying himself with his DJ panel.

Bucky doesn’t even watch as Stephen walks away. Becca reaches up and gives his arm a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

Bucky gives her a tight smile. “Peachy.”

  

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve walks away from Bucky and towards the bar in shock. If the contempt in his stare and the cruel bite to his sarcasm are any indications, Bucky hates him. It delivers a jab to Steve’s heart. He mentally replays the conversation from last night, as if he hadn’t already a dozen times, trying to figure out what he could have said or done to provoke this kind of venom. Last night, Bucky was prepared to leave his set early to go out with Steve, but tonight he acted like he didn’t even remember him until Steve reminded him. Bucky didn’t sound like he even believed that was his real name.

He knows.

It’s the only explanation.

Steve takes a seat at the bar, and orders a mineral water from a kind-looking middle-aged woman. When she comes back with it, Steve drops down a $5 bill.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t take cash.”

Steve looks at her like she just spoke Greek. Surely she couldn’t have just said that.

“What?”

She shrugs. “Boss doesn’t like it, and frankly, cards are just easier to deal with. New world order, I suppose.”

Steve frowns, staring down at his water. He’s always avoided paying with his card because as Natasha constantly reminds him, cards make it very easy for anyone to find you.

With the bartender looking on and people pressing in, trying to find an empty seat at the bar, Steve starts to feel guilty about just occupying a chair without buying anything. Besides, he’s done this before, and it’s kind of weird to sit in a karaoke bar for hours, without drinking or eating anything. He pulls out his wallet, and hands over his card. As soon as the bartender sese it coming out of the sleeve, her eyes pop. Steve’s seen that reaction before. It must be the card. Sam once told him that regular people have to have damn near perfect credit to get a card like that, but of course, they work for SHIELD, so rules like that don’t apply.

“Thank you, sir. Can I get you anything else?” the bartender asks, her entire demeanor now especially attentive.

Steve sighs. Even without a famous face, his accidental wealth changes how people interact with him. “No, thanks.”

The interaction concluded, Steve looks for Bucky, watching him closely for any sign of anger. But Bucky seems as happy as ever, jumping into a circle of drunk heavyset women as they sing ‘All About That Bass.’ He does hip bumps with each of them and looks up like he’s found the key to heaven. Even Steve laughs as one of the women bends over and points to her butt. Bucky doesn’t actually smack the woman’s backside, but he puts up his hand like he really wants to. She looks absolutely delighted and the crowd cheers on.

After their song goes off, Steve watches Bucky immerse himself in a string of performances. They're all very different, but there’s one constant - the way Bucky supports whoever is singing. He’s never passive or patronising. He puts his entire being into making people and their songs feel important.

As Steve watches Bucky give his energy and attention to customers over and over again, he begins to wonder how he screwed things up so badly. Each time he and Bucky spoke, there was a clear connection, a spark that Steve hadn’t shared with anyone since 1943. And he isn’t ready to let it go. Regardless of how badly he’s messed up with Bucky, Steve is determined to fix it.

Self-conscious about staring too hard, Steve turns to covertly watch Bucky in the mirror behind the bartender, only to find those familiar ice blue eyes staring at the back of his head once his back is to him.

Steve quickly averts his gaze and knocks back one of the free experimental shots of whatever lined along the bar. When he glances back up, Bucky is talking to a customer. Steve orders another drink, a vodka and tonic, and nurses it slowly as he thinks of his options.

He has no doubt that if he tries to ask Bucky out again, Justin or Becca will pull the same stunt, or something similar, to prevent Bucky from leaving with him. Perhaps it’s time to confess right here in the bar, but there’s just one problem: Bucky. His demeanor tonight is very aggressive, almost hostile. Steve will have to try a different tactic to explain things.  
Before he can formulate a plan, Bucky’s voice rings out over the last few notes of a fading song.

“Alright folks, that was Tina all the way from Hoboken, New Jersey, singing some old school Christina Aguilera for ya. Not bad, not bad at all, Tina. You may have actually improved Jersey’s reputation around here.”

There’s a smattering of replies from the crowd; “hell no,” “impossible,” and even a few boos.

“Settle down, there’ll be none of that,” Bucky says. “We love New Jersey up in here, because we love anyone with the balls to get up on this stage. Am I right?”

The entire crowd answers back with cheers.

“That’s better,” Bucky says with a grin. “Okay guys, next up to bat is a real pro. Says his name is Stephen, but I have my doubts. Probably a fake stage name, but it doesn’t matter. All we care about is the music. Am I right?”

The crowd cheers again.

“That’s what I’m talking about! So let’s welcome Stephen up to the stage. Come on up here, Stephen!”

People around him are looking back. Some drunk guy starts a steady chant and clap combo that begins to crescendo.

“Stephen. Stephen. Stephen….”

Nervous energy coils in Steve’s gut as he moves towards the stage. Bucky is smiling but his eyes are not. He’s watching, judging, and damn, it sure ruins Steve’s usual excitement about coming up to the mic.

“You ready, pal?” Bucky asks. “What am I saying? You’re a natural actor. Go on and break a leg!”

From the tone of his voice, Steve’s pretty sure that Bucky means that literally right now. He tries not to think about it as the familiar blue screen appears on the monitor.

Someone yells “Crazy Train!” as Steve mumbles the first line:

_All aboard! Hahaha_

A guitar riff starts. It’s loud, unrepentant, almost frantic, and it matches his mood. A young 20-something guy with long brown hair starts nodding his head so hard it looks like it’s going to give him whiplash. It must be infectious, because soon half the room is doing the same thing.

Caught between Bucky’s anger and the adrenaline of the guitar and drum, Steve embraces the concept of ‘When in Rome’ and bangs his head too.

It feels really good.

The lyrics splash on the screen and the crowd helps Steve find the melody:

 _Crazy, but that's how it goes_  
_Millions of people living as foes_  
_Maybe it's not too late_  
_To learn how to love, and forget how to hate_

That last line sinks right into his skin and he walks closer to the monitor, digesting the meaning of the song as the crowd around him shouts on.

 _Mental wounds not healing_  
_Life's a bitter shame_  
_I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train_  
_I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train_  

Steve glances over at Bucky and is surprised to see how intensely Bucky is staring. There’s suspicion there, but something else, something that gives Steve the courage to give Bucky a small smile. The guitar riff starts again, and the lyrics to the second verse slide onto the screen, waiting their turn. He’s already nodding on as he reads them. He doesn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne is, but he knows for certain that on this one thing, they see eye to eye. 

 _I've listened to preachers,_  
_I've listened to fools_  
_I've watched all the dropouts_  
_Who make their own rules_  
_One person conditioned to rule and control_  
_The media sells it and you live the role_

 _Mental wounds still screaming_  
_Driving me insane_  
_I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train_  
_I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train_

 

Steve can hear himself screaming the last part, and he looks around, a bit embarrassed but it’s clear the people around him don’t care, because they’re screaming too.

By the time he’s finished, Steve’s damn near hoarse and the entire bar is on their feet, clapping and cheering.

For those few minutes, Steve forgot about the world, and even Bucky. But when he looks up at the DJ booth to hand the microphone back, reality comes crashing down. Bucky’s smile is bitter and there’s still steel in his stare.

“Alright, let’s give it up for Grant. Oh, I mean, Roger. Wait...it’s Stephen, right? Gee, my bad. Let’s give it up for Stephen.”

Steve wants to turn and leave right then and there. Not only does Bucky know he isn’t Stephen, but he’s somehow deduced that he may be all of them.

Steve stands frozen in horror for a moment, trying to think. When he looks into Bucky’s eyes, he sees a glimpse of pain behind the anger, and he makes a decision.

“Bucky, we need to talk.”

“No, we can’t,” Bucky says. “I’m working. Okay, next on the mic, we have Chelsey. Come on up here, Chelsey!”

“Please,” Steve begs. Justin and Becca make their disapproval of him clear with their frowns, but he doesn't even care how pathetic he sounds.

“What? So you can lie some more?" Bucky says, not even looking at him. "No thanks, pal. Do your thang, girl!” he shouts to the tall blonde in the center of the stage.

“Bucky, I just need -”

“You need to back the fuck up and leave him alone,” Becca says.

Justin makes a big show of cracking his knuckles as he stares down at Steve. Steve glances at Bucky, but Bucky’s full attention is on the next singer.

“I said leave,” Becca says through clenched teeth, and Steve nods. It’s clear this is over -- not that it ever really started.“Okay. I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m sorry.”

He turns away and walks swiftly to the bar to pay his tab. Then he walks out and doesn’t look back.

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky waits until Promenade is nearly empty to direct Becca and Justin to finish breaking the equipment down and load the van. When he is certain they are very occupied, he strides over to the bar to talk to Mel, the owner, who is tallying up receipts for the night.

“Hey Bucky, great set tonight," she says. "We always rack up when you guys DJ.” She doesn't miss a beat as she punches the calculator and writes up calculation in her little black bookkeeping notebook.

Bucky gives her his best smile, leaning in smoothly. This is gonna be risky, but he just has to know. “Thanks, Mel. You know we love playing here. Great crowd, great tips, stellar staff.” He gives her a flirty look from under his eyelashes and Mel bursts out laughing, her fingers still flying over buttons.

“Oh god, are you drunk? What’s the matter, didn’t get your quota of phone numbers?”

Bucky pulls back with a frown. Is that really how he comes off? “No, I am not drunk! Sheesh, I was just trying to give you a compliment.”

Mel stops her calculating to give Bucky a slow, measuring look. “Okay then, what do you want?”

And this is not how it was supposed to go. Bucky lost all of his cool points, and he needed those to get what he wanted.“What makes you think I want something?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because you never stay this long past a set. You’re definitely never the last one to leave. And you always help break down the equipment. Plus, I’ve known you for what, four years now? And you have never, ever laid that look on me. So…what do you want?”

Bucky’s chewing his lips, because shit. “Um, well...” Maybe he should just drop it, but once Stephen started singing ‘Crazy Train’ like he was singing from his soul, Bucky just couldn’t seem to let it go. He has to know who this guy is. Yesterday he was convinced it was a prank but tonight, the earnest look in the guy’s eyes has Bucky second-guessing everything.

“Does it happen to concern a certain tall dirty-blonde beefcake who can’t sing to save his life?” she asks.

Bucky groans and looks around, making sure Becca and Justin are still out of earshot. When he turns back, Mel has a little smirk on her face. “Fuck, am I that obvious?”

She’s laughing again. “Yeah, you were staring at him all night. Although I couldn’t tell if you were interested or mad as hell.”

That’s a perfect opening. Bucky quickly improvises. “Actually, I’m more disturbed? I didn’t know how to approach you, but I kinda feel like you’re my last line of defense here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that guy and his friends have been showing up at all of my events. And not just showing up. They always makes a point of talking to me and sitting close to the booth. It’s giving me the creeps.”

“Oh, hell fucking no. Bucky, if that guy and his friends are stalking you, call the police.”

Bucky winces. That’s not where he wants to go with this. “Um, maybe I will. But I don’t want to take it there just yet. I do need more information, though. I think he and his friends are using fake names. They know my name and all the bars I work because it’s always featured in the Event Calendar for the _Times._ It gives them all the power, you know? I saw him give you a card tonight though, so I thought maybe…”

He trails off, holding his breath.

Mel contemplates what he’s asking. “You know I’m not supposed to give out credit card information, Bucky. It’s against the law.”

“I don’t want his credit card information, just a name. If he really is a stalker, it might end up saving my life. I can’t even go to the police now if I wanted to because I don’t have a real name."

He watches closely as the gears turn in Mel’s head. Finally, she gives a long sigh and a decisive nod. “Alright. Just the name. I remember this guy because he used a American Express black card. You don’t see those often. The card was issued to a Steve G. Rogers.”

“Steve G. Rogers?” Bucky repeats. “Like Steve Grant Rogers. As in Captain America?”

Mel laughs. “Yeah, I guess. But that guy was no Captain America. He was way hotter.”

Bucky frowns, temporarily thrown off by Mel’s shoddy judgement. Stephen is hot, but he can’t touch the hotness of Captain America.

But they share a name.

Once again, the universe is messing with Bucky. He doesn’t know whether to laugh it off, or go home and drown his disappointment in a bottle of whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> “Crazy Train” was written and performed by Ozzy Osbourne, Randy Rhoads and Bob Daisley and performed by Ozzy Osbourne, Randy Rhoads, Bob Daisley, and Lee Kerslake.


	6. The Dust in the Wind is Haunting Me

Steve is just getting back from his morning run and peeling off his sweaty clothing when his cell phone starts buzzing like crazy. There’s a ringing throughout his quarters that alerts him that he needs to suit up.

By the time he gets down to the Operations conference room, Tony has a digital hologram pulled up and is talking to Fury. He hears the words ‘magic’, ‘zombies’, and ‘occult’, and ten minutes later he’s on his bike, zooming down the middle of a deserted Times Square. Tony and Sam are somewhere above him, Clint is perched on a building, and Natasha is behind him in reinforced Hummer truck.

Steve is busy slinging his shield through brittle bones and rotting flesh when Sam’s voice comes through loud and clear in his earpiece.

“Oh boy, looks like they have a Daddy. Ten times bigger than the rest of ‘em. He’s a hundred yards at your six, Cap. I got him in my sights. Clear out!”

Steve shoves the edge of his shield into the necks of the zombies closest to him, and turns his head to get a glimpse of the huge skeletal beast stalking its way up the street. Its mouth is hanging like a broken hinge as it unleashes an unnatural scream.

Steve runs back towards it. He hears Sam’s frustrated groan in his ear. “Steve, what the hell are you doing? I said ‘I got it’!”

But there’s a woman and a child at the monster’s feet. Steve flings his shield at the thing’s ankles and the shield comes back to him, slicing through flesh as it goes. The monster buckles and wobbles and looks dangerously close to toppling over -- right onto the woman and her daughter.

Steve jumps on the hood of a car and dives down in front of them, pushing them out of the way. “Run, run, run!” he shouts.

“You run, get out of there, Steve!” Sam yells in his ear.

Steve backs away, but not in time. He looks up just in time to see “The Other Guy” bounding towards them with his powerful arms raised. The Hulk delivers a devastating headpound that sends a downpour of bone, gristle, and stinking flesh raining down. Steve holds his shield up, blocking most of it, but then the monster’s jaw falls, right down on his head.

A moment of sharp pain -- then he completely blacks out.

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

When he finally comes to, Sam’s scowling down at him. Natasha is standing stone faced behind him, her arms crossed in judgement.

Steve coughs. His mouth feels full of grit and blood. “Was that the last of ‘em?”

“Did I not say, I got this?” Sam says in a low and even tone. “I told you to run for cover! I was going to blast it from the air. You know, from a safe distance.”

Natasha has one eyebrow raised. Just like that, Steve’s guilt dissolves into defiance. He raises his chin and looks at them both squarely.

“If you really had it, he would have been down, Sam. There were civilians at his feet. I couldn’t risk it.” He says it with steel, waiting, daring either one of them to argue with him.

“What, you think you’re the only one who can take on a threat? Huh? Is that it?” Sam says angrily.

“Last time I checked, I was the closest to the civilians. What did you want me to do, Sam? Just walk away?”

Sam shakes his head before stalking off, leaving Steve with Natasha. Her continued silence is more unsettling than any raised voice Steve’s heard. Steve glances at her, annoyed by the unspoken judgement, and then turns to head back to the Tower.

A few hours later, during the debriefing, the team reports what happened for the official record. Almost everyone is present, including Fury and Maria, except for Bruce. He’s still coming back to himself after unleashing ‘The Other Guy’. When the meeting is adjourned, the only people who leave the conference room are Fury and Maria. Steve wants to leave as well, but there’s obviously a conversation to be had, and he would like hurry it along.

Eventually Tony lets out a great sigh. Steve looks at him, then at Sam and Nat.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s put it all out on the table now,” he says in frustration. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it affecting the team going forward. If anyone has something to get off their chest, now’s the time to do it.”

Tony strokes his goatee, looking at little like one of those conniving villains Steve sees in straight-to-TV B-movies. “Does it matter what we say? Does it ever? You’re going to do what you want to do, and you do it every time. I mean, who gives a fuck what we think, right? You’re the ‘leader.’”

Steve clenches his fist, trying to keep his temper in check.

“But here’s the thing, Cap,” Tony says. “Leaders have a team, otherwise they’re just assholes with titles. And leaders don’t fall on the sword to get the job done unless it’s the very last resort, because they know that their team is competent enough to deal with the sword before anyone has to fall on it.”

Steve looks around at the faces of his teammates, hating the agreement he sees in their eyes.

“There were civilians,” he starts.

Tony holds up his hand and stands. “Yeah, we heard you, Cap. It’s only about the greater good, right? Damn the team. Don’t worry about it, you did a great job - all by yourself. Oh, wait -- that's not true. We helped too. Well, anyway, you nearly got yourself killed in the name of heroism, regardless. Something to be proud of.”

Tony gives Steve’s shoulder a little pat. It takes all of Steve’s self-control not to yell after him. Is anyone listening? There were _civilians!_ He just cracks his knuckles as Tony begins walking out of the conference room. The argument is over, he knows, but it just won’t die in his head, so he stands to go finish it.

Sam holds up his hands. “Slow down, man. Just take a minute and calm down.”

Steve cocks his head and stares Sam down in a way that intimidates most. But Sam’s expression only reflects concern. Steve glances down to Natasha and Clint, who looks extremely uncomfortable with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s never seen Clint be so quiet for so long.

Steve huffs and stomps out of the conference room. When the door opens again behind him, he glances back and sees Natasha following him. 

“Not you too,” Steve grumbles, making his way to the elevator. “Just…give me a moment, alright?”

When her hand covers his before he can open the door, he looks over, ready to tell her flat out to get off his back. But the wry smile on Natasha’s face throws him for a loop. For a moment, he’s at a loss for words.

“You and I both know Tony cares about this team, Steve. It was a good talk.”

Steve grinds his teeth and looks away.

“I know you think everyone is ganging up on you, but you can’t take on the world by yourself, Steve. We’re a team.”

Suddenly incredibly tired, Steve takes a few steps and then plops heavily onto the hallway bench. When he folds over, resting his head in his hands, he feels Natasha take a seat beside him. A shiver runs through him as her lithe fingers glide up through his hair and then press and scratch down on his scalp.

“Stop that,” she says softly.

“Stop what?” Steve breathes, moving closer to her.

“Moaning like you’re getting off. You’re still the leader of the Avengers. Control yourself.”

Steve chokes out a laugh and presses his face against his hands, keeping himself tucked over until he's not so close to crying.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky's trying to read the Blink 182 event contract as he drinks his afternoon cup of coffee, but he can't seem to focus. Justin and Becca are in the living room, eating cereal and watching SpongeBob reruns, which isn't helping. He’s about to ask her to turn it down, when breaking news suddenly flashes on the screen.

The steady pulse of automatic gunfire plays in surround sound right in front of him. On the screen, SWAT and NYPD are running through the streets of Manhattan, shooting at what appear to be zombies. It's Times Square, but all Bucky can see is Afghanistan.

Bucky zones out. He zones back in. On the screen, the Falcon swoops down, and then a familiar flash of red, white and blue runs in beneath him. Bucky’s mouth drops as Captain America jumps on the roof of a car to fling his shield at a huge creature, like Bucky's never seen -- he’s shouting something indecipherable -- and gets cut off when the monster’s body implodes.

Becca gasps as bone debris rains down on top of him like a torrential downpour, creating a dust cloud that reminds Bucky of the one time he and his unit evacuated an apartment building of locals before it was targeted. They thought they’d cleared everyone, but when grenade hit, Bucky saw the face of a small child in the top window just before the explosion and dust cloud obliterated his view.

Bucky pulls his eyes from the television, desperately trying to tether himself to the here and now. He zeroes in on Justin, who’s sitting stock still, like a statue. Becca turns off the television and turns around, eyes wide. “Bucky…”

“I’m fine. I’m…” he trails off and is halfway down the hall, praying that she doesn’t follow him.

She doesn’t. The gunfire from the television does. Did Becca turn the TV back on? He tries to outrun it -- kicks his bedroom door closed and falls back on his bed. His heart is jumping wildly. Breathing is difficult.

He clenches his eyes shut, balls his hand into a tight fist, and pounds his right thigh with it over and over again. The lead counselor for his VA support group always says mindfulness in the midst of chaos is a practice, not a destination. But Bucky hasn’t been practicing, and right now he’s regretting it. It’s hard to remember to breathe, to count, to do any of that shit they preach down at the VA. Panic just keeps rising.

“Bucky?”

He looks over. Becca's in the doorway. Is she in danger too?

“Breath in slow with me, okay?" she says. "And then release it with me.” She makes a huge exaggerated sucking in sound as she slides down beside him, and as silly as it sounds, he does it like a reflex. Exhales with her too. He does it again. The pressure in his chest deflates a little bit.

They repeat it five more times together. He should be stronger than this by now. Breaking down around Becca and Justin was supposed to be a thing of the past. As irrational as it seems, he almost convinced himself he could control when to unravel.

For a long moment, he contemplates telling Becca to go away. But they have a gig tonight, and now he’s worried about Justin too. Better to get it over with.

“I’m fine,” he says in a mostly even voice, even though neither one of them believes it. He looks at her and extends his arm, taking the big brother role back for himself. Becca wraps her arms around him and he buries his face in her lush dark hair, breathing in her fruity shampoo and fancy perfume. "Thanks. For helping."

"Of course, big brother. That's why I'm here."

“Is Justin okay?”

“I’m good, man," Justin says from the door. He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Peachy, even.” His face reads calm, but Bucky’s seen that dead look in his eyes before.

“Sure you are,” Bucky says sarcastically.

Justin rolls his eyes but that easy smirk falls away. “Since Manhattan’s covered in zombie guts, I think the gig for tonight is cancelled.”

Becca nods. “Maybe that’s a good thing. When’s the last time we had a real night off?”

“It’s been a while,” Justin says. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Becca’s face is hopeful. “What do you think, Bucky, wanna hang out? Maybe somewhere you don't DJ?”

Just thought of DJing anywhere tonight makes Bucky tired. “Hell yeah. Let’s stay on this side of the bridge. I’m not about to get attacked by zombies or whatever the hell those things were. Fuck Manhattan.”

“Fuck Manhattan,” Becca and Justin agree with weary smiles. 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Natasha and Steve sit on the hallway bench for a long time. Long enough to watch various members of the team file out of the conference room. Finally, she pats his hand and rises, giving Steve a small smile before she leaves. It’s only a little more comforting than Sam’s curt head nod and Clint’s "see ya ‘round, Cap,” before he disappears into the ceiling.

The solitude should be a relief, but Steve’s at a loose end. No one even tried to strong-arm him into getting checked out by the medical staff. As Steve heads back to his private quarters, he’s not sure where things stand with him and the team. He doesn’t really know how to fix it.

When the elevator doors open, Bruce is standing there. He’s obviously just returned, because he’s wearing fresh clothing and he has that haunted look in his eyes he always gets after transforming from ‘The Other Guy’.

“Steve,” he says, shifting awkwardly in the elevator. “I guess I missed the debriefing. Again.”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says uncomfortably, stepping on board and scanning his hand. The elevator ascends up, and Steve wonders where Bruce is going now.

“How did the mission go?” Bruce asks, watching him closely.

“We neutralized the threat,” Steve says carefully. “Actually, you put him down.”

Bruce gives an unsure smile. “Yeah?”

Steve nods. “Yep. Damage Control is on cleanup.” He looks at Bruce’s pale color and the uneasiness in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Bruce shakes his head. “No. The first few hours after is always a bit of a mindfuck.”

“Sorry,” Steve says.

“Yeah, and, also,” he waves his hand over Steve’s body. “I heard something about you getting hurt? Is that true?”

“I’m fine,” Steve says tightly, aware that his delivery contradicts his words.

Bruce is looking at him with kind eyes. “I know we don’t really hang out that much, but I was wondering if, after you decompress, you'd maybe like to catch a bite to eat. The cafeteria has a great risotto. No pressure, though, I don’t want to crowd you.”

Steve shakes his head vehemently at the thought of Bruce, of all people, being a bother, besides he seems to be one of the few people right now who isn’t mad at him. “No, that would be great.”

“Great,” Bruce says, smiling. “How about now?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

“J.A.R.V.I.S?” Bruce says

“Yes, Dr. Banner, the cafeteria it is.”

“Thank you.”

The elevator drops them off on the third floor, which is almost entirely the Stark employee cafeteria. When they walk in, a portly, dark haired man, with whiskers that remind Steve of Dum Dum, waves.

Bruce smiles as they walks up to him. “Steve, this is Kevin, the best Sous Chef in Manhattan.”

“Oh, you flatter me, you don’t have to butter me up, I will still cook for you,” Kevin says.

Bruce shakes his head. “Kevin, you know Steve, right?”

“I know of him,” Kevin says, extending his hand. Steve shakes it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Rogers. I’ve been waiting for you to come into my restaurant.”

Steve’s eyebrows go up. “You have?”

“Yes, I would love to cook a post-battle meal for a hero such as yourself. I think a proper meal is in order, yes? So please look at the menu, and order anything you like. If I don’t have something you want, just ask.”

“Actually,” Bruce says. “I do have a special request.”

Steve watches Bruce curiously as he leans in to talk to Kevin. Kevin nods and claps his hands like he’s extremely pleased with whatever Bruce is saying.

When they’re finished, they give Steve weird smiles, and Steve begins to wonder what the hell is going on.

“Go on, have a seat," Kevin says. "I’ll have my staff bring out your food.”

“But we didn’t order?” Steve says.

“I just did,” Bruce says.

They sit down in the ridiculously fancy chairs near the full length ballistic glass windows overlooking the city. "Great view," Steve murmurs. “This is my first time in here.”

“I figured. I never see you at lunch or even dinner."

A young college-age looking guy brings them two huge mugs and a pot of hot tea that smells a lot like ginger and lemon.

Steve shrugs as he takes a sip. "I eat a lot, so, I’ve been using the delivery service. They prep all your meals according to your specifications."

"But that kinda cuts into the social aspect of eating."

Steve looks back over the cafeteria. "Yeah, because Stark Tower is where it’s happening."

"Okay, you got me there. Everyone here is a bit…focused. But it’s nice to connect with people once in a while. Believe me, I’m the king of cutting myself off."

Before Steve can reply, two more college kids with white aprons walk up to their table with large trays of food. “Compliments of the chef.”

They sit the plates in front of Steve and Bruce. Steve is surprised at the selection. There’s Shepherd’s pie, bangers and mash, macaroni and cheese, and soda bread.

“Wow, this is...very Irish.” Steve glances back at the kitchen and sees Kevin smiling.

“Bon appetit, Captain!" he calls across the cafeteria. "And please let me know if you’d like anything else.”

“Thank you,” Steve calls back. He turns to Bruce. “Did you set this up?”

Bruce shrugs. “You looked like you could use some comfort food. I kinda lied before. I saw the footage, Steve. You’re lucky you’re you. Even so, that was a pretty risky move. It looked like the equivalent of a building fell on you.”

The shepherd’s pie suddenly seems super compelling. Steve stuffs his mouth, avoiding Bruce’s eyes.

“Tony isn’t saying much, but I can tell when he’s upset," Bruce goes on. "What’s going on, Steve?”

Steve takes his time chewing his food and takes a long drink of his tea before responding. “I think they’re pissed at me. Sam wanted to take the shot from the sky, but I saw civilians and made a split second decision.”

Bruce nods, but doesn’t say anything for a long time. They eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s not nearly as tense as the ride back in the Quinjet, and for that, Steve is grateful.

“You know, Buddhism has taught me a lot of things," Bruce finally says. "Some lessons I’m still grappling with, but the one I keep coming back to is the idea that our path is not set in stone. It can feel that way when things don’t turn out the way we want. But we have the power to change the path.”

Steve can’t help his skepticism. “And what happens when the new path doesn’t lead where you want?”

“You forge another one,” Bruce replies. “But -- and here’s the key -- you have to tell the universe what you want.”

Steve shakes his head. “No offense, Bruce, but I’m not sure I buy any of that.”

Bruce shrugs. “You don’t have to. I guess I’m telling you this because the big takeaway is that if you want something, you have to be intentional about it. Are you running headfirst into these life-threatening situations because you think that's what's best? Or are you doing it because you think you're supposed to?"

Steve bristles. "Does it matter? I got the job done."

Bruce hums. There’s a small little knowing smile on his lips. “So how’s the karaoke recon going?"

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Just speaking of getting the job done. Got any leads? Is it going the way you intend?”

Steve finally raises his eyes to meet Bruce’s. “Not too good. Had a lead for awhile there, but I think I lost him.”

"Have you done everything you can to get this guy? Are you being really honest with yourself here?" Bruce shrugs, like he's impartial. "Hell, what do I know. Maybe it really is time to move on.”

Steve swallows and thinks about all of the things he wanted to tell Bucky. “Thanks, Bruce,” he says finally, digging into his macaroni and cheese. “For the pep talk and the food.”

Bruce raises his glass to give a toast. “No problem. It’s nice to hang out and chat about something other than science sometimes. It’s easy to get sucked into whatever Tony and me are doing in the lab, and forget about people. Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He sits back, completely stuffed. “What, no song suggestions?”

Bruce scrunches up his face. "Huh?"

“Everyone on the team seems to have very strong feelings about what kind of songs I choose while I'm scoping out karaoke.”

“Oh, so you do sing?” Bruce’s eyes brighten at the revelation. Steve regrets bringing it up.“Hmm, let’s see. I’d go with some classic rock, something like Kansas. They have a great song called ‘Dust in the Wind.’”

“I'll check them out," Steve says. "Right after I try a slice of this apple pie.”

Bruce smiles.

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve thinks a long time about Bruce’s advice.

He should be honest with Bucky. He should tell him everything.

No matter how many times or ways it plays out, Steve can only imagine it ending in disaster. He pictures Bucky’s shock and anger about being lied to and followed. Bucky might even accuse Steve of stalking him. Bucky might've been the DJ, but it was the singing Steve followed.

Armed with new knowledge, Bucky could make a scene or run to the the press. Plus, Becca and Justin made their dislike of Steve in all his forms very clear, even before they knew it was him the whole time.

Bucky deserves better. He doesn’t need some sad, lying superhero, who claims to be brave while hiding behind masks, trying to snake into his life.

It may take some time, but Steve resolves to let go of the fantasy of Bucky. It wasn't meant to be. Bucky's better off without him.

But he’s not giving up karaoke.

There are plenty of karaoke lounges and bars in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and Steve is determined to find one where he feels comfortable. Even if it won’t ever be quite like the experience that Bucky provides, Steve’s going to continue to give his all on the mic. And since Bucky exclusively plays in Manhattan, tonight, Steve’s going to Brooklyn. A small bar called Montero’s Bar & Grill is having karaoke night in Brooklyn Heights -- his old stomping grounds. Steve checks through their website and the Times to make sure Shining Star isn't mentioned. The Yelp reviews use ‘chill’ and ‘laid back’ as the most frequent phrase about this place -- perfect.

He downloads ‘Dust in the Wind’ and practices singing it while alternating between checking his Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Eight o’clock comes quickly. Steve puts on his most comfortable henley and well-loved jeans. He leaves all his masks behind. Tonight all he needs is his trusty baseball cap and sunglasses.

It’s not often Steve gets a chance to go to Brooklyn, these days. In fact, he never goes to Brooklyn unless it’s under attack. As he rides his motorcycle over the river, he soaks up the way the wind caresses his skin, and takes in the lights of the city and the bridge reflecting off the water. The closer he gets to Brooklyn Heights, the more he recognizes old buildings that were there long before he was born. But some things are gone, and in their places are new storefronts, or restaurants with bright signs.

Montero’s Bar & Grill is recognizable a block away. There’s a crowd of people standing outside, some of them smoking. Steve parks his bike, adrenaline rising as he gets closer.  
When he walks in, his eyes scan the perimeter as tries to get a sense of the layout of the place.

It is indeed quite small -- cozy, in a way. The DJ is a pretty and petite Latina woman with the side of her head shaved. Steve makes his way over to her, and she looks up and smiles. “How can i help you?”

“Yes. I’d like to sing Kansas, ‘Dust in the Wind’. Not sure if I need a request slip, or--”

“No, no, I got you. What’s your name?”

“Grant.”

“Great, Grant, I’ll put you down. You’re about twelfth in the queue.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, turning for the bar.

The vibe in this bar is markedly different from the any of the ones he’s been to in Manhattan. There’s a very low-key energy, but it’s not aloof like Planet Rose, or pretentious like Latitude. People of all different ethnicities and orientations are talking, flirting, and swaying in the small cramped space between the raised platform where the DJ booth sits and the bar. Every time Steve looks around, someone smiles at him and nods. It’s… nice. It doesn’t take long for Steve to get comfortable and begin to sway in his seat to the music.

The DJ is soft-spoken, and her voice is so mellow it casts a spell over the bar. Perhaps that’s why most of the songs people pick are ballads or have a laid-back feel. It’s so relaxing, Steve’s almost drunk with it. When the next singer comes on, he’s floating on the melody until the lyrics of the second verse hit him between the eyes.

 _Everything about me is a lie_  
At least it seems that way when I look in your eyes  
The truth scares the shit out of me  
Whoever said love is real and love is blood  
has never felt the way that I do

As the young woman at the edge of the raised platform continues to sing, Steve starts to deflate.

 _What does it matter?_  
_What's done is done and I should get on with my life_  
_Why are you haunting me?_  
_Why are you haunting me?_

What is Bucky doing right now? Is he okay, after the attack on Manhattan? Steve wonders if he’s still bitter about Steve lying, or wondering why he lied in the first place. Steve wishes he could drown his self-loathing and loneliness in alcohol. Shake Bucky from his mind just for a--

“Grant. Please come up to the stage.”

Steve jerks and scrambles out of his seat, wondering how long the DJ has been calling him.

The monitor is flashing lyrics before he can even grab the mic, and he plays catch up, trying to remember their cadence.

 _I close my eyes_  
_Only for a moment, and the moment's gone_  
_All my dreams_  
_Pass before my eyes, a curiosity_

_Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind_

Now that Bucky is on his mind, it really hits him: any dream Steve had of them will drift on, like dust in the wind. Steve’s voice cracks on the next verse, and he turns from the audience to get closer to the monitor. He pushes through, and by the time the song ends, he’s given a whole testimonial. He hands the microphone back and goes to get another drink, finding he's in desperate need of it.

“Thank you, Grant. Guys, give it up for Grant. That’s one of my favorites,” the DJ says. “Okay, next up, I’m gonna call one of my best friends up to the stage. She and her gorgeous brother are local karaoke celebrities. She doesn’t drop by often, but when she does, we have a song we like to do together. Come up here, Becca.”

Steve almost gasps as he turns to watch Becca climb up onto the stage -- and then he does gasp, because there's Bucky, walking towards him -- Steve sees him in the mirror behind the bartender's head. Bucky's blue glare is fiery like a heat-seeking missile, and it's aimed at the back of Steve’s head.

They lock eyes in the mirror.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bucky says.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly turns around. “Hey Bucky."

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, asshole. Or should I call you ‘Grant’?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but Bucky’s even closer now, barreling on, his voice growing louder. “Yeah, that’s right, pal. I know your all of your gym bros - Roger and Steve.” He snorts. “I can’t believe one of you creeps actually shares the same name as a national hero.”

“Actually, Bucky --”

“How’d you find me, huh? You guys put a tail on me or something? You know what, it doesn’t even matter. I'm just gonna call the cops and let them sort it out.”

Steve imagines how this would play out on the news, or the tabloids, when they find out it's him:

_Captain America Stalks Local Veteran Karaoke DJ_

_National Icon Steve Rogers Is a Stalker? Bucky Barnes Reveals All_

 

“Don’t do that,” Steve blurts out.

Bucky stops, mid-tirade. “Do what?”

“Call the cops. Let me explain.”

“Save it! I already know whatever you’re gonna tell me is gonna be a steaming pile of horseshit.”

Steve glances around. The ruckus has drawn a few stares. Bucky’s got out his phone and looks about two seconds from leaving the bar and calling the authorities, so Steve takes Bruce’s advice and tries one last thing to get Bucky to listen - he takes off his baseball cap and removes his sunglasses.

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky would recognize those blue eyes anywhere. The ridiculously long lashes that frame them are etched in Bucky’s mind forever after years of staring too long at magazine covers, televised press conferences, and the collector’s posters that decorated his childhood bedroom.

That nose is one of a kind because it’s crooked, and it's the only imperfection Bucky’s ever been able to find on Steve Rogers’ face.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” Steve fucking Rogers says to him. “Can we leave, or do you have to look after your sister?”

It takes Bucky a few moments for his brain to come back online and reconnect to his mouth. He glances around. There are more people staring now. He spots Becca singing a duet with Lex, her BFF and the bar’s DJ, and decides she's safe.

“No, I can leave. She’ll probably expect me to do a safety call in like an hour, so...”

There’s a faint smile on Captain America’s lips, like he’s proud or something. He made a good impression on Captain America.

This guy is really Steve Rogers.

Captain America is a liar.

Bucky frowns and gives Steve a once-over. “So are we leaving, or what?”

Steve seems to remember himself. His mouth creases into a deep frown when he nods. He puts the ballcap and shades back on. They make him look more like the Terminator than Captain America.

A small voice in Bucky’s mind asks if it really is wise to leave with a superhero who's been lying to him for weeks, but Captain America or not, this guy owes Bucky an explanation, and he expects it to be good.

Once they get outside in the fresh night air, Steve turns and looks around. “Is there a diner or something we can go to? My treat.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “This isn't a date.”

“No. No, definitely not. I mean, not that I wouldn’t like to take you out, but I know going out with me is probably the last thing you want right now. I just want to explain myself.”

It’s weird hearing Captain America stammer like this. Bucky finds it endearing, and surreal. Even if he is a bit of a loon, why would Steve Rogers be nervous around Bucky, of all people?

“Okay, well, Carroll Gardens Diner is right up the street. Did you drive?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, I brought my bike. I have a helmet if you don’t mind riding.”

Bucky makes an ‘O’ with his mouth as his eyes find the bike parked right across the street. “Wow. Okay. So this is your 750?”

There’s a little smirk pulling at Steve’s lips, but then his eyes flicker to Bucky’s pinned up sleeve. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, I mean, it’s, yeah,” Bucky says, swallowing.

This is shaping up to be one of the weirdest nights of Bucky’s life, and that really is saying something, considering the crazy shit he’s lived through. When he confronted Steve, he expected an explosion of accusations, threats, and maybe even some violence. He never thought he’d end up riding passenger on Captain America’s bike. He really shouldn’t go, given how weird Steve has been, but an opportunity like this is too exciting to pass up. He’s actually had dreams about doing this.

Bucky hasn’t been on a bike in years, and he’s never been on one since his amputation. There’s a nervous energy buzzing underneath his skin, part excitement, part fear. Steve is very careful, and reviews how Bucky should lean in when Steve makes turns. “Just pinch me if your arm gets tired or uncomfortable,” Steve says.

“We’re only going a few blocks."

“Safety is important,” Steve says in a tone that’s damn close to the one he uses for Captain America.

“Aye aye, Captain!” Bucky does a sloppy salute and wraps his arm around Steve’s torso as he settles on the bike.

It takes more than a modicum of willpower to resist squeezing too hard. Bucky’s thought about snuggling up with Grant, Roger, and Stephen because they all had the same body type as his real fantasy guy, Captain America. Now he's here, it's him -- now Bucky has his arm around the real dream after all. It makes Bucky’s head spin a little bit, especially when Steve tells Bucky to hold on tight.

“Yep,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s muscular back.

Damn, this ride is gonna kill him.

The rev and thrum of the engine beneath him inspires a feeling of unexpected power and a fragile vulnerability all at once. When the bike takes off, Bucky clutches a wad of Steve’s henley. His fingers glide over ridges of rock-solid abs. The wind is refreshing against his skin and Steve’s body is solid and steady. Any fear Bucky had is replaced by the type of exhilaration he only remembers experiencing on rides at Coney Island.

It’s over too fast, and when Steve slows down and parks, Bucky actually has to hold in a pout. Feeling up Captain America is not the point of this trip. They’re going to sit down and Steve's going to explain why he was being a creep.

Steve holds the diner’s door open for Bucky. Bucky can’t help but wonder if Steve’s just being sweet, or if he thinks Bucky needs coddling because he’s missing an arm. The diner is mostly empty, save for a disheveled man in the corner booth and a few college kids at the far end near the bathroom.

Bucky takes a seat at a booth by a window facing the street, with a clear view of the door. Steve pauses, like that’s the seat he wanted, but then slides into the booth right across.

There’s an awkward silence as they both look at each other. The waitress comes over to ask if they’d like anything to drink.

“Just water,” they both say at the same time.

“Okay, I’ll give you guys a minute to look over the menu."

Steve takes a visible swallow while Bucky watches him closely. The awkwardness slides back in, sprawling in the space between them. The waitress brings their waters, and Steve takes a long drink and clears his throat, watching Bucky like he’s waiting to be asked something. That's pretty annoying, since Steve was the one following him. He should be explaining himself without being prompted.

Tired of playing the waiting game, Bucky gives a great sigh and shrugs. “So.”

“So, um, my name is Steve Rogers. And as you’ve probably already deduced, I am Captain America.”

“No shit,” Bucky says. “Now tell me something I don’t know. Why have you been following me?”

“Bucky, I swear I didn’t follow you tonight. I actually came out here to get away. You weren’t supposed to be there.”

That’s actually true. He and Becca had decided at the last moment to drop in. “Okay, fine, but you have been following me.” He waves his hand over his face. “I mean, were you pretending to be all of those guys? All three of them? Or do I--”

Steve nods. “Yes.”

It’s difficult to comprehend. Bucky studied all three faces up close. Granted, all of those encounters took place in dark dive bars, but Bucky’s not blind. He was a damn sniper.

“That’s impossible. I saw you up close - your skin, your hair, your fucking eyes. How did you--”

“It’s high tech. Those were prosthetic masks that mold to the skeletal structure of whoever puts them on.”

Bucky gapes at Steve, caught between awe and strange sort of terror. If Steve can literally change his face, what else is he capable of. Why was his focus on Bucky?

“Why would you do that?” Bucky asks, his voice a bit shaky. “Am I...am I under investigation? Is this about Kabul?”

“Bucky--”

“They said I was cleared.”

“Bucky, listen--”

“I answered all of their questions. They cleared me. They said--”

“Bucky!”

Bucky flinches and snaps his mouth shut, looking past Steve to watch the glass door. If he’s on Captain America’s radar, others must be watching.

Steve puts his hands on the table and tents them as he leans in. “Look at me, please.”

It’s hard to pull his eyes away from the glass, but Bucky forces himself to meet Steve’s gaze. “Bucky, I want to make this clear. None of this has anything to do with Avenger business, or your service, or the Army, or S.H.I.E.L.D. This is about me being really selfish. My only excuse is that I really love what you do. You made me feel free and alive than I have in a long time the first night I saw you...I’ve never felt that carefree before. I haven’t been the same since.”

“So you started following me?” Bucky blurts.

Steve shakes his head. “No, no. I know it probably looks like that to you, but it wasn’t really about you. I mean, it was…”

Bucky huffs impatiently.

“What I’m trying to say,” Steve says, sounding frustrated with himself, “is that yes, I felt a connection to you, but this disguise thing, the singing… that stuff wasn’t about trying to get _with_ you. You’re a rock star, Bucky, and you make everyone who sings feel like they could be one too. I got addicted to that feeling. I’m just a fan, and I was trying to catch all of your shows chasing _that._ Are you telling me you don’t have people who regularly pop up at your events?”

The paranoia and vigilance recede a little in his mind as Bucky takes in Steve’s nervous hand gestures and the way his eyes are combing over Bucky’s face. The earnestness in Steve’s voice and those puppy-dog eyes may be part of the con, but damn if they aren’t effective.

Still, Bucky’s already been burned three times. “Yeah I have regulars, people who really dig what we do. I get that part. But they don’t wear disguises or lie about who they are. That’s the part I can’t really swallow. Why should I believe that? Tell me why would anyone believe that Captain America is a secret fan of karaoke.”

“Well--”

“Hold on,” Bucky says, holding his hand up. “I’m not finished. A secret fan who uses high-tech disguises so he can follow a one-armed DJ around the city and sing -- like shit, I might add.”

Steve frowns and looks down, like Bucky’s hurt his feelings. Bucky only feels a little bit of guilt. He had it coming.

“Alright guys, what can I get you?”

The waitress surprises them both. Steve nods to Bucky to order first. “I’ll have your steak and eggs, scrambled with a slice of cheese,” he says.

“And how about you, big guy?” she asks Steve with a flirty smile.

“Uh, can I have two of your specials?” Steve says.

“Wow, okay, sure.” She writes it down and moves on to the next table.

“I understand why you don’t believe me," Steve says, once she's out of earshot. "I lied about my name, but everything else I told you… all of that was true.”

“Nuh-uh. You don’t work for C.I.A.”

“That was a joke, and you know it."

Bucky smirks, then shifts through all the things they discussed when Steve was pretending to be someone else. Anger flares in him. “I told you some really personal shit. And maybe that was my fault, but I thought I was talking to someone else. God, I feel so stupid...”

“Don’t,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his voice that gives Bucky pause. “Those masks are made to look like the real thing. S.H.I.E.L.D. is very good at what it does, and I…I misused them. I’m the stupid one. I’m sorry for misleading you, just so I could sing… badly."

Steve has this hangdog look that’s tugging on Bucky’s heartstrings. Is Steve really that isolated? Bucky knows he’s a man out of time, but he’s never thought about what that might mean in terms of Steve’s acclimation to present day. As much as he wants to push sympathy away, it keeps clamouring for his attention.

Bucky growls and pushes his hand over his face and up through his hair. “I just don’t get it. Like you’re Captain America, why would you--"

“Yeah, I’m Captain America, and no one ever lets me forget it."

Bucky stares down at the table. “I don’t know how to feel about this, Steve. I mean, you’re like larger than life to me. I’ve always admired you, not just because you’re a superhero, but because you’re principled. You’re a real leader, you know? And I always thought that out of all of the people with super abilities, you were the most trustworthy.”

“I betrayed your trust. I’m not who you thought I was.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve sighs. “Frankly, Bucky...not a lot of people really know who I am. It turns out I am the kind of guy to deceive someone like this. I apologize for letting you down.”

The shuffle of shoes and the clank of plates startles Bucky. He straightens and watches the waitress as she sets down their food.

They tuck in and eat in tense silence, glancing up at each other every few seconds.

As Bucky eats, he considers the man in front of him. He wasn’t expecting Steve’s explanation, or his earnest apology. It’s true, Bucky is still angry that Captain America lied to him. But Bucky also realizes he knows very little about Steve Rogers. Until tonight, those two identities were interchangeable.

But now it’s clear that Steve is a real fraught guy, with all of the complexities that comes with being a flesh and blood human being. He’s both dishonest and earnest, brave and cowardly, reckless and protective. And Bucky finds that a helluva lot more interesting than the simple persona of Captain America.

“I don’t forgive you."

Steve opens his mouth and then seems to accept it as he puts down his fork. He nods and calls for the check. “I understand. I promise I won’t bother you again,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky watches him for a moment and then pulls out his phone. “Giving up so easily? I thought you said you really liked me.”

Steve looks confused.

“Unless you were completely lying about everything, we really did have a spark or did I imagine that?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. You didn’t, I felt it.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, hoping to God he doesn’t regret what he’s about to do. “Then maybe you can earn back my trust. We could exchange numbers. See where it goes. I’m not doing email, though, because that’s just weird. Is that too complicated for you?”

He can’t help the challenge in his voice, and he half-expects Steve to tell him it will be too much. But there’s a tiny smile pulling at Steve’s lips. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and slides it across the table.

“You don’t really know me that well right now, but complicated is my actual middle name.”

"Grant's your middle name," Bucky mutters, putting his number into Steve's phone.

"What's yours?" Steve asks.

Bucky hands back the phone, shaking his head at Steve's stupid grin. "We'll get to that," he says, as Steve pays the bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> “Haunting Me” was written and performed by Stabbing Westward
> 
> “Dust in the Wind” was written and performed by Kansas.


	7. Get to Know You Better

A ticking clock, loud and familiar, echoes like a gong. Bucky knows he’s been here before. He knows he’s dreaming, but he can’t wake up. Even if he could, he’s not sure if he should. Because this is where they die. This is the moment that will forever be scorched into his mind. He needs to relive it, to see it happen again. To never forget.

The ticking stops, and then there’s nothing but silence. Until the shuffling. Sometimes it’s loud, too. Sometimes it creeps up on him like a thief. Tonight, it sounds like it did that day.

Bucky turns his entire body to the left, looking through the scope of his MK18, and sees the woman. Her clothing is tattered, like her face. She’s alone and her eyes are full of tears as she holds out her arms and hangs her head.

“Lutfan. Lutfan. Luftan,” she keeps repeating.

Bucky knows, then. They’re here, and she keeps saying ‘please’ in that pitiful pleading way, like she wants Bucky to swoop in and rescue her. It would put his entire unit at risk. But she’s crying, and she didn’t ask to be here.

_“Bucky! On your left. Look ou –”_

The deafening boom of an explosion renders Bucky temporarily deaf, and his vision is clouded by flashes and smoke. He’s choking, there’s an excruciating pain in his left shoulder -- Bucky can’t see anything. He’s afraid to look. Something is wrong with his arm. His arm is….

Bucky jerks awake. Becca’s laughter cuts through the village woman’s screams as Bucky opens his eyes to the harsh light of the afternoon sun. Disoriented, it’s not until he hears Becca’s laughter again that he can latch onto the present and stay. The past fades, but it never really leaves.

Bucky finds something from the present to cling to, to keep him grounded. Yesterday, he woke up, had a nice lunch, he went out with Becca, he…exchanged numbers with Steve fucking Rogers.

Bucky refuses to think of him as Captain America until he can figure out what’s going on. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s still a bit jittery about the whole situation. His initial worry that he was under investigation yanked him back to a place he’d been working hard to get away from.

He reaches for his phone, which he always keeps next to him on a spare pillow. There’s only his text exchange with Becca, letting her know he got home safe. Nothing from Steve. Bucky’s not sure what he expected. It’s only been about twelve hours since they exchanged phone numbers, but he still hoped...

He sits up when an email notification pops up.

FROM: liveshowbookings@jgm.co.uk  
TO: jbbarnes@gmail.com

Re: Follow Up on Blink 182 Celebrity Karaoke Contract

Hello Mr. Barnes,

Your associate Rebecca suggested that I contact you through email to follow up on the contracts we sent you two weeks ago. I know that I gave you a deadline of April 15th, however, it is rare that our potential vendors and contractors use the full 30 days for consideration. Of course, you should take the consideration period if you require it. I am not trying to rush your decision. However, if you have any questions or concerns related to the event, contract stipulations, or logistics, please let me know. I am here to answer your questions and help facilitate a smooth process for all involved.

We are very excited about the possibility of you working with us. You come highly recommended. I should also inform you that we have secured a deal for the event to be televised on MTV. I hope this helps inform your decision.

I can be reached at anytime at this email address or by phone, which is once again  
+44 20 8742 4950.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincerely,

Leona Davies, LLM, LPC  
Live Shows Contracts Manager  
James Grant Music LTD

 

Bucky chews his bottom lip as he reads the email over again. That damn contract. He’s read through it several times, and something about it just doesn’t sit right. Becca’s well versed in contracts and she said she doesn’t see any problems with it. They’re compensating Shining Star very handsomely, and providing equipment, a dressing room, several breaks, and even paying for all of their accommodations that weekend. Plus, it’s free advertising.

Bucky sighs. Advertising and television means more exposure, more shows, and higher-profile bookings. It’s a dream come true for any DJ, especially in karaoke where DJs are a dime a dozen

A small part of him wonders why he’s hesitating. Bucky frowns and glances over to his left before closing out the email. With the phone still in his hand, he gets a text message from his friend DeShaun, who showed him the DJing ropes in high school. He hasn’t spoken to DeShaun in years. This has to be about the Blink 182 event. Bucky ignores the text as well and saves deliberating over the contract for another day.

His list of contacts is still up from when Steve entered his name. Bucky’s thumb caresses the name. He smiles. If this was any other guy, Bucky would shoot a flirty text to keep the fire stoked, but this is Steve fucking Rogers. Bucky wants to make him wait and maybe even grovel some more.

He wonders how long it will take before Steve texts him. Then he wonders if he even knows the rules on this kind of thing. Guy's old as hell. Bucky might be left waiting for a long time.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve’s phone buzzes. He’s almost afraid to pick it up. It’s probably Pepper or Tony, or maybe even Fury calling about a tabloid cover on his adventures in karaoke. Last night’s conversation with Bucky left him on unsteady ground, both personally and professionally. First he revealed he’d been lying, masquerading in disguise so he could sing karaoke. What a TMZ headline that would make. Not to mention it wouldn’t take a genius to deduce that he’s either bisexual or gay. Steve isn’t ashamed of his sexuality, but the fact of the matter is he hasn’t come out yet. It’s a public reveal he’s been putting off for the simple fact that he already hates the press. After he comes out, it’s going to be that much harder to deal with them.

He frowns as he listens to his cell phone vibrating against the wood of his nightstand. All of these thoughts trace back to Bucky talking to the press out of anger and resentment. But Bucky has been nothing but nice to him. Even last night, when he was clearly confused and in shock, he didn’t rip into Steve the way he could have. If anyone is untrustworthy right now, it's Steve.

He reaches out and grabs the phone. “Rogers.”

“Steve, hey, we need you down in the conference room. Team meeting,” Sam says.

Steve huffs. “What for?”

“I don’t know, this is coming from Fury.”

“Be there in ten,” Steve says before hanging up. He gets up and heads for the bathroom to do a quick cleanup, grateful for once to have a professional distraction from his personal life.

The distraction doesn’t last long enough. Fury wanted another debriefing on the zombie situation and fallout. Apparently, the mastermind behind the whole thing has been traced back to some guy from another dimension through a portal of some kind. The politics surrounding the geographic location of the portal adds more complexity, and the Avengers have not be authorized to go in. Just in case, S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to reach Thor, and the team remains on high alert.

Fury dismisses them with a ‘just be ready,’ which Steve finds incredibly frustrating. They’re all grumbling about the situation as they disperse. Steve takes advantage of their distracted state to pull out his phone to see if he has any missed calls.

None.

“Hey, man,” Sam jogs up to him. “We’re all going to the rec room, just to kick it for a bit.”

Steve frowns. “Kick it? We need to be training. We’re getting pretty lax.”

The deadpan look Sam gives him would be funny if Steve didn’t entirely mean what he just said. The team hasn’t been training together enough, in his opinion.

“Steve, we just fought zombies. That was one hell of a training exercise.”

“We need to be ready for anything."

Sam sighs in exasperation. “We also need to know each other better. Build trust. Everything can’t be about fighting, man.”

Steve has a sudden hyper-awareness of his posture. This always seems to happen whenever anyone mentions ‘just kicking it.'. Whether it was in school or the orphanage, Steve’s never really fit in. Even after the serum, he has unpleasant memories of sticking out like a sore thumb backstage at the USO shows. The showgirls would try to chat him up or even flirt, but Steve always felt like a big clunky body who didn’t know how to make casual conversation.

With the Howling Commandos, it was easier. They had a common goal, and worked well together creating and executing tactical plans. The jokes and conversation came easier with them as well, and when the Howlies wanted to hang out, he didn’t feel as much like an outsider.

His experience with the Avengers has been something different entirely. Despite the team’s individual and collective efforts to ‘just hang out’ or ‘kick it,’ Steve tries to keep his time with them focused on training. That’s what a leader does.

Sam does have a point, though -- team bonding and trust probably can’t be forged through fighting alone.

“Okay,” Steve says.

Sam’s gap-toothed grin and elbow to the side has him actually looking forward to it.

The Rec Room, or what Tony fondly calls ‘The Chill-the-Fuck-Out Lounge,’ is outfitted with things Tony considers relaxing and cool: a bluetooth jukebox, a Jacuzzi, an Xbox, a Wii, old 80’s arcade games, and tables for pool, poker, and foosball. Steve has always considered it less recreational and more of a neutral ground, good for checking in. He can catch up with his teammates here, without crossing any unexpected boundaries that tend to show up when you visit someone in their private quarters. And being here keeps people out of Steve's quarters as well.

When Steve and Sam enter, Clint and Natasha are already playing darts, Tony and Bruce are playing a game of foosball, and Maria is on the couch playing some sort of video game on the huge big-screen television. Sam makes his way over to the couch and picks up a game controller.

Maria gives him a quick once over. “You sure you wanna do that? I don’t want to destroy your self-esteem.”

Sam laughs. “Oh, it’s on now.”

Natasha shoots Steve a little smile. “You wanna help me out? I’m trying to teach Clint how to teach others when it comes to target practice, instead of showing off.”

“I’m not showing off, Nat” Clint huffs. “I can’t help my perfect aim. That’s like, innate. You can’t teach that.”

Steve strides over. “But you can teach form and technique to help someone else.”

"OK, Cap. Let me slow this down for you.” Steve watches as Clint hits the bull’s eye several times. He interrupts to ask Clint to review and how he would explain what he’s doing to a newbie.

“This isn’t fun anymore,” Clint complains. “Feels like training.”

“Can’t it be both?” Steve asks.

“No,” Clint says, making his way over to the couch. Steve looks at Natasha, who shakes her head and smiles.

“We tried,” she says, and then motions over to the couches, where most of the team has now gathered to watch Sam and Maria play Mario Kart. “Do you play?”

“No.”

“Come on,” she beckons, heading over to take a seat beside Clint.

“Oh my god, Cap! Has hell frozen over?” Tony exclaims as he violently spins the foosball handle. “You’re actually in the Rec Room! What is this, your third time? Welcome!” He hip checks the table, effectively letting him score at Bruce’s end.

“No way, Tony, you rigged these tables!” Bruce cries.

“Maybe I did. Does that make you angry?” Tony asks with glee in his eyes. “I’d totally understand if it makes you a little green.”

“Tony!” they all scold in unison.

Tony puts his hands up. “Just kidding. How about a little Mario Kart?”

“Like that’s not gonna piss me off,” Bruce says in resignation. “I’ll just sit with Steve and watch.” He gives Steve a little wink and takes a seat next to him.

Steve relaxes and takes it all in. It’s not awkward or weird at all. Perhaps this is even something he can get used to.

It takes a few hours, but the team members clear out one by one, until it’s just Steve and Sam, who is still playing Mario Kart by himself. Steve has migrated over to the kitchen, and is alternating between eating a really good miniature roasted chicken and checking for a text from Bucky.

For the past ten minutes, it’s mostly been focused on the latter. Bucky’s information is bright and large on his screen, waiting for him to press ‘Send’ or ‘Call’. But Steve can’t do either of those, because he’s too busy thinking of all the ways this could go belly-up. Bucky indicated that he wanted to get to know him, but Bucky seemed to be giving him the benefit of the doubt because Steve was a national icon. He wondered, if he had been an average Joe, whether Bucky would give him the same second chance.

Steve's still staring at his phone, so deep in thought that he misses Sam cutting off the TV and walking over to the kitchen island.

“Hey man, you okay? You’ve got your Captain America-is-pondering-some-serious-shit face on,” Sam says.

“I’m fine,” he replies guardedly, his gaze returning to his phone.

“Yeah, aight. Cool. Just checking on you."

Steve glances up to see if Sam is genuinely not fazed, or is using one of his VA counselor mind tricks. But Sam’s face-deep in the refrigerator, searching for some food.

“What’s with all of this gourmet shit Stark stocks in the fridge? I’m a simple man. I mean, can a brotha just get a turkey sandwich?”

Sam is about dig into one of those miniature roasted chickens, but that doesn’t stop him from visibly eyeballing Steve. Steve glances around the room to make sure it’s just him and Sam. This doesn’t need to be a team project.

“Alright. I need your advice,” Steve admits.

Finally, Sam looks him at him straight. “Alright, shoot.”

Steve eyes his phone again, caressing Bucky’s name with his thumb. “So, uh, I met someone.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s eyes practically sparkle with satisfaction. “Did you meet them through karaoke?”

Steve’s face grows hot. “Yeah.”

“They wouldn’t happen to DJ now, would they?”

Steve sighs. “Yes.”

“My man! I knew you could do it! It was the song, right? Marvin Gaye gets them every time!”

“I need some advice. Are you gonna give it to me or not?”

Sam dials back his grin and nods, but there’s still a little smile on his face.

Steve takes a breath and just launches in.

“So, he knows who I really am. But because of all of the masks and general dishonesty, he doesn’t really trust me right now. Also, he gave me his phone number. I think this is some sort of probationary period to earn his trust.”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. “Shouldn’t be hard. Just be yourself, man. All that cloak-and-dagger shit was never your thing.”

“I guess not.”

Sam strokes his chin, considering him. “So what’s the real problem?”

It’s easier to look at the counter under Sam’s knowing gaze. “I’ve never really done this part before.”

Sam chuckles. “C’mon, man, calm down. He’s just a guy. You’re both interested. Just be yourself and talk. You know how to do that, don’t you?”

Holding his head in his hands, Steve clenches his eyes shut. Sam is making this sound too simple. “Sam, I fight for a living. If I’m not in a war, I’m fighting aliens or whatever new threat pops up. This is who I am. How in the hell does that translate into being myself on a date or in a relationship?”

When Steve opens his eyes, Sam is looking at him, but it’s different now. The smile is gone and there’s a crease of concern between his eyes. “You think fighting is all you are?”

Steve has to look up at the ceiling. Sam’s stare is like an x-ray and Steve is vulnerable and exposed under it. “I didn’t say that."

“You kinda did."

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m shit at this. I didn’t date before the war and and I haven’t dated anyone since I woke up. And this guy, he’s a real looker, naturally charming, the whole package. He’s definitely experienced in the dating department.”

“Experience can be a good thing, you know? You’re unsure, maybe a little awkward. If this guy knows his way around, he can smooth those awkward moments over.”

Steve relaxes. This is the kind of advice he can handle.

“Ok, but he was born several decades after me,” Steve argues. “We may be physically close in age but in terms of life experience… Sam, what the hell are we gonna talk about?”

Sam wipes his hands with a napkin and puts the cover back on his miniature chicken. “One of the greatest tactical minds of the last century, and you’re asking me for a game plan?”

“Yes?” Steve says, giving Sam puppy eyes.

Sam laughs as he heads to the exit, food in tow. “You’ll figure out. You’re brilliant. Just trust your instincts! And remember, you don’t have to be Captain of everything.”

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve goes into his bedroom, taking seat at his desk and pulling out his phone.

He rolls his eyes at himself for the pomp and circumstance of sending a simple text, and then smiles. Peggy was right. He always was a little dramatic. Still is.

He starts typing.

 **Steve:** Hey

His eyes pop in surprise when the answer text comes back less than ten seconds later. Perhaps he isn’t the only one who’s been waiting.

 **Bucky:** Hey!

 ****Steve:**** Hope this is a good time?

 ******Bucky:****** Definitely. I’m just eating breakfast and watching daytime TV. Judge Joe Brown is laying the smack down. Makes me tear up.

Steve glances up at the digital clock.

 ********Steve:******** Huh, I hate to break it to you buddy, but you’re eating lunch now. It can’t even be called brunch at this hour.

 **********Bucky:********** Noooo, Steve, you don’t understand. People who work nights have different rules. In our universe breakfast is whatever you eat when you first wake up. I woke up about an hour ago so this is definitely breakfast.

Bucky sends a picture of a large mug of coffee next to a half-eaten microwaveable sausage biscuit.

Steve is surprised when another text arrives before Steve can even type out a reply.

 ************Bucky:************ Jimmy Dean, the breakfast for champions! I bet you don’t know anything about that with a body like yours.

Steve is halfway through a self-deprecating jab about his body being a trash compactor when he receives another text.

 **************Bucky:************** Hey I’m sorry about that last comment. Totally inappropriate. I remember what you said about not feeling like a person sometimes. I didn’t mean to objectify you or nothing. I meant as a compliment but that’s not an excuse

And that just makes Steve feel like an ass. He rushes to erase his current text and type out another.

 ****************Steve:**************** Oh no, don’t apologize. I didn’t take it like that at all. I was just about to tell you, I eat anything and everything I can get my hands on because of my crazy metabolism. Sorry it took so long for me to respond. Please bear with me, I’m not much of a texter. I didn’t even take typing in school and these keys are so small, especially for my hands.

Bucky’s reply comes through lightning fast.

 ******************Bucky:****************** No worries! Thought I offended you. Glad I didn’t

Steve starts typing an long explanation about how he doesn’t offend easily, but Bucky is too fast.

 ********************Bucky:******************** So, I want you to know that I’m still kinda in shock about you, in general, but we’re good. Like I said, I would never rat you out

 **********************Bucky:********************** Actually, I’m sorta excited we have so much in common

 ************************Bucky:************************ If everything you said while you were Grant, Roger, and Stephen was true that is

 **************************Bucky:************************** Not that I’m calling you a liar

 ****************************Bucky:**************************** But you did lie :p

 ******************************Bucky:****************************** I’m totally joking. I hope you know that. Sometimes humor doesn’t come through in texting

 ********************************Bucky:******************************** OK, I’m gonna stop texting now. I suppose you’ll text back if you want to talk

 **********************************Bucky:********************************** No hard feelings if you don’t. OK? Have a good day, Steve

Steve is both surprised and a little worried that Bucky is so quick and has made so many assumptions, all within the span of a few minutes. He’s never going to be able to reply fast enough to keep up, so he decides to call.

Bucky answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, hope you don’t mind me calling,” Steve says, inexplicably short of breath. “I just couldn’t really keep up with your texting.”

“Actually, I, uh, don’t text that often. The only things I text are usually emojis. The rest is just me talking to my phone; it dictates what I say.”

Steve’s eyebrows pop up. “No shit.”

“Damn, Steve,” Bucky says. “You lie _and_ swear?”

“I most certainly fucking do,” Steve replies calmly.

“But what would the kids think?” Bucky says, now teasing.

“Well I don’t swear in front of children, unless you’re counting yourself,” Steve says, feeling good about that one.

Bucky scoffs. “Wow, you’re an all American smartass, aren’t you?”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Steve says. “Now tell me more about this voice texting feature you have.”

“OK, ok. So do you have an Android or Iphone?”

“Uh, neither? I have a Stark phone.”

“What the fuck is that?” Bucky asks. “Tony Stark made a phone? Unfuckingbelievable. It’s not on the market though?”

“No. I don’t think so,” Steve says slowly, trying to recall any mention of it. “Not yet anyway. He’s been talking about it.”

“But it’s gotta be Android based, right?”

“I don’t, uh…” Steve pulls the phone away from his face and looks it over. “No, I don’t think it is. It’s kinda its own thing.”

“Yeah, but when you charge it, do you use like an Android charger or Iphone charger?”

“I’ve never had to charge it,” Steve says. “It has a self-charging battery that runs on solar energy.”

Bucky actually gasps. “No fucking way! Are you serious? That’s crazy. I mean they’ve been talking about developing that sort of tech for years, but it’s not supposed to be available for like another decade.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty nifty. Especially when we’re in remote locations and don’t have access to outlets.”

“I bet,” Bucky replies, awe still in his voice.

Steve studies his feet as a lull breaks the conversation. It lasts for a while. He’s compelled to say something, anything.

“So…” Steve starts.

“So…” Bucky mimics with a teasing lilt.

“Um, so…” Steve says, searching his mind. “It was kinda strange running into you in Brooklyn. Why weren’t you DJing last night?”

“It was that whole zombie thing you guys were involved in,” Bucky says.

Steve winces.

“Our gig for last night was near Ground Zero so we decided to take the night off, since it was probably cancelled anyway. Justin decided to sleep, and Becca wanted to visit her friend. I was just tagging along.”

“Huh. Small world, I guess,” Steve says.

“Yep, sure is,” Bucky replies. “Which is why I really don’t understand why you have to live in Manhattan. Brooklyn is literally only a half an hour away from Stark Tower. Just because you work with the guy doesn’t mean you have to live with him.”

Steve sighs. “It’d be nice if it was that simple.”

“It is. C’mon, Steve. Literally thousands of people commute to Manhattan and then get the fuck outta there at the end of the day. And for good reason. It’s a soul-sucking place. With your name and clout, you could get any apartment you wanted in Brooklyn. There’s so many good neighborhoods across the bridge.”

“I’m still thinking about it. The main problem is security. Anywhere I live automatically becomes a target. I wouldn’t want to put anyone in harm’s way.”

Steve’s not sure what he expected in response, but it wasn’t silence. He’s about to change the subject when Bucky starts talking.

“You know, I have all this special forces training, and it never once occurred to me that you living in Brooklyn puts Brooklyn in danger. I guess if i was in your position, I’d stay in Stark Tower too.”

There’s a weird ache in Steve’s chest. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s touched that Bucky’s trying to empathize with him, or if it’s because Bucky’s opinion only confirms he might be stuck living in the Tower indefinitely.

“Bucky!” a woman’s voice calls in the background.

“Argh, coming!” Bucky yells away from the phone. “Sorry, that’s my sister. We’re meeting with new clients all week, trying to add a few new gigs on the circuit. Have to go play nice and meet some people.”

“Sounds exciting,” Steve says in a monotone voice.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Yes, I was.”

“I knew it! You have like the driest humor ever. I was telling my sister and Justin how half the time reporters miss all the slick shit you say to them.”

Steve feels a spike of satisfaction. “More like 90%, but who’s counting.”

"Funny...um, well, okay, I guess I'll talk to you soon.” Bucky’s voice is soft and a little bit fond.

“I hope so,” Steve replies. He lets Bucky hang up first and then looks down at his phone, smiling.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

But they don’t talk again for nearly a week, at least on the phone. They text more often. Throughout the day they trade stupid memes and jokes about politicians, koala videos, and commentary about The Super-Gay Adventures of Ross Boston. Apparently Steve is more versed in pop culture than the press and general public gives him credit for.

Once Bucky discovers how much Steve knows, he tries to find out all of his social media handles. But Steve can be as closed off as Fort Knox on many things. Still, Bucky gets a kick out of reading Steve’s dry sarcastic commentary throughout the day in text messages, even when he doesn’t tell Bucky exactly what he’s doing.

 **Bucky** : So like are you a fan of the Brooklyn Dodgers still, or have you finally converted over?

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** The Dodgers will always have a place in my heart, but I’ve been watching a lot of Yankee games lately.

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** OMG. No. You can’t! You’re supposed to stand up for the little man, to fight against corruption. The Yankees embody everything you fight against.

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** I’m sorry, Bucky, but the Yankees are officially New York’s team, how can you argue against that?

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** I’m so disappointed in you, again. Really. I have nothing else to say

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** Would you still have nothing to say if I told you I get complimentary Mets season's passes every year?

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** What a waste. You’re busy kissing the Yankees’ asses and have perfectly good season passes to the Mets

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** I have season's passes to the Mets because I'm a fan. I was just kidding about the Yankees.

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** You’re such a punk. You realize you’re just confirming my theory that Captain America is a troll.

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** Purely conjecture. You’ll never be able to prove that

Not yet, Bucky thinks. But if they keep this up it'll be a matter of time.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

 **Steve** : I hope I’m not waking you. I know you work at night, so I really have no idea when a good time would be to contact you. I suppose I should have asked. Please ignore this message if you need to rest. We can talk later.

 **Bucky** : I’m up silly. My VA group and rehabilitation are on Tuesdays so I have to be up early

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** Oh

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** Don’t get quiet on me now. It’s okay, Steve. These are things that come with being me. I’m not hung up about it

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** That’s a great place to be in

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** Yeah, well it was either that or be completely dependent on my sister. I’ve burdened her enough. She helped me get my ass in gear when I came home.

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** I doubt she thinks you’re a burden. She seems like a very nice person

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** Who, Becca? She will kick your ass! She actually threatened to kick yours

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** I’m sure. It’s good though, it’s important to have people like her and Justin around as a support system

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** They’re my guardian angels. My parents too. I just try not to bleed on them too much. My mom can be a bit much

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** I understand. But it’s nice you still have your parents around. Don’t take them for granted

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** Yeah, you’re right. So who do you depend on when things get rough?

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** Steve?

Steve startles when his phone begins ringing. He’s usually the one to call Bucky first.

“Bucky?”

“You can’t preach about support systems if you don’t have one for yourself,” Bucky says.

Steve sits up in his bed. Coming from Sam, this is standard, but Bucky is slowly becoming Steve’s safe place. When Bucky sends a text or answers the phone, Steve often forgets he’s a man out of time, or even Captain America. Answering this one question may start a conversation that will ruin his only refuge with the nuisance of having to think about the two sides of his identity.  
  
Too much time elapses. He really should be talking.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot," Bucky says. "I only asked out of concern.”

Bucky’s thoughtfulness undoes him. Steve exhales and answers truthfully. "It's no big deal, it's just...I don’t like to bleed on people either. But if I had to identify my support system, I guess it would be my team.”

“Are you guys close?”

A spike of guilt hits Steve. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Bucky’s silence makes Steve uncomfortable. “Do you guys hang out, like outside of Avengers business?”

Steve starts shuffling around, rearranging the items on his desk. “Sometimes.”

“You know, I saw a lot of shit in the field. As much as I hate dragging my ass to the VA, it helps to have someone to talk it out with. People who understand what I’ve seen.”

It’s the same thing Sam is always saying, but hearing Bucky say it is different.

“I’m not saying you have to go down to the VA and share all of your problems,” Bucky continues. ”But, it’s nice you still have your team around you. Don’t take them for granted.”

Steve smiles.

“Anyway, I have to get ready to go,” Bucky sighs. “Rehab starts in half an hour.”

“OK. I hope it goes well. And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll try to do better about that."

“Good,” Bucky says, sounding pleased. “Talk to you later, Steve.”

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** God, I hate doing PSAs

 ************************************Bucky:** ********************************** But you’re so good at them :D I’m not even in school and I love watching them

 ************************************Steve:** ********************************** Please tell me you’re joking

 ************************************Bucky:************************************ I’m not. I have them saved in my favorites on youtube. You’ve done five right?

 **************************************Steve:**  ************************************8 :/

 **************************************Bucky:** ************************************ Shit, I need to search for the other 3

 **************************************Steve:** ************************************ please don’t Bucky

 **************************************Bucky:** ************************************ Why’d you bring them up? Are you doing one right now?

 **************************************Steve:** ************************************ Maybe

 **************************************Bucky:** ************************************ :D Yay! What’s it on?

 **************************************Steve:** ************************************ Drugs. Because apparently not only can I run very fast, but I have the power to stop someone from trying meth or crack

 **************************************Bucky:** ************************************ You never know Steve. Even if you reach one kid, it's worth it

 ************************************Steve:************************************ Just the pep talk I need. Thanks Bucky. I have to go and reach that one kid now

 **************************************Bucky:************************************** Good luck and please send me a copy when it comes out

 ************************************Steve:************************************ I absolutely will not

 ************************************Bucky:************************************ How about a private one? :D

 ************************************Steve:************************************ If you need a private PSA on why it’s bad to be a smartass, I can arrange that. Gotta go now

 ************************************Bucky:************************************ Wouldn’t that be hypocritical though? ;) Go do your thing, punk. Talk to you later

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

**Bucky:** Ugh, what is up with all of these fucking hipsters taking over Brooklyn? Every time I turn around I see a new overpriced market or boutique the people in this neighborhood can’t afford. Or maybe it’s just me.

 **Steve:** It’s not just you. Gentrification is a serious issue

 **Bucky:** Did that kind of stuff happen back when you were coming up?

 **Steve:** Not really. Neighborhoods were pretty fixed by socioeconomic brackets. Didn’t fluctuate much. You pretty much got stuck where you grew up, which I guess some would say is worse

 **Bucky:** Sucks both ways I guess. I just hope I can stay here. I really like Bed-Stuy. Really cool, laid back vibe. A lot of working class folks, I think you’d like it

 **Steve:** I remember you telling me that before. It’s just amazing how some things change and some things stay the same. That area has always been very racially and ethnically diverse

 **Bucky:** yeah well looks like they’re trying to change that. Little Susie and Biff are taking over and running out all of the poor natives. It’s Park Slope all over again

 **Steve:** maybe look into joining a local group that fights to preserve the neighborhood. There’s an organization called Right to the City doing some good work on that front. It’d be a good way to channel your frustration. I used to be active with the District 33 protection group, but they don’t exist anymore

 **Bucky:** Yeah, I remember you telling me about protesting in Times Square with the communists. So that was true?

 **Steve:** Yes, I was and still am a social justice advocate. Does that surprise you?

 **Bucky:** It’s weird they don’t mention you doing that kind of this stuff before the war

 **Steve:** I can’t imagine why

 **Bucky:** Ha ha ha. Guess the headline Captain America attended a communist rally is pretty provocative. I’m actually surprised the press hasn’t picked it up yet

 **Steve:** It’s been buried.

 **Bucky:** Everytime you say stuff like that, it gives me the creepy crawlies. That’s exactly why I don’t trust the government and orgs like SHIELD. I know you have to because you work for them

Bucky’s phone starts ringing. It’s less of a shock now than it used to be. There are certain topics Steve just won’t text about.

“Hello?” 

“Who says I trust them?” Steve asks.

Bucky doesn’t know why it sends a little thrill through him to hear Steve say that. Maybe it's because it contradicts every single thing the public knows about Captain America. It feels like a secret, one Steve is trusting Bucky to keep.

“You work for them,” he manages to push out past the lump in his throat.

“Yes, I do,” Steve says and Bucky can hear the ‘so what’ in his words.

“But you wouldn’t trust them as far as you can throw them.”

“Well, I can throw pretty far, so….”

Bucky laughs and tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach as the conversation goes on.

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

**Bucky:** Cats or dogs

 **Steve:** both

 **Bucky:** OK, yeah both, but you have to have a preference

 **Steve:** I do not

 **Bucky:** Dogs are cool, but cats rule the world

 **Steve:** Is that why they’re called man’s best friend? Oh wait, that’s never been said of a cat

 **Bucky:** Ha! Gotcha, you’re a dog person

 **Steve:** They’re loyal, attentive, and fierce protectors

 **Bucky:** They’re also needy af. Cats are masters of the universe. They’re smooth and can be very sweet when you treat them right

 **Steve:** so what you’re telling me is that you’re a giant cat

 **Bucky:** at least I don’t look like a labrador on steroids

 **Steve:** a labrador you wouldn’t mind petting though

 **Bucky:** sounds kinky

 **Steve:** you’re such a jerk

 **Bucky:** come on, admit it. You want me to pet you

 **Steve:** I’m not dignifying that with an answer

 **Bucky:** So that’s a yes?

Steve calls and Bucky doesn’t even let it ring one full complete time before he picks up.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Steve asks.

“That’s what they tell me,” Bucky says.

“Yeah, well, don’t quit your night job."

Bucky’s laughter is making Steve's stomach flutter. He plops back onto the bed, grinning at the ceiling. "Damn, I didn’t even pay attention to the clock. Isn’t this like your bedtime?” Steve asks.

“Yup. I’m usually dead to the world right now, but I make exceptions every now and then.” His voice dips a little lower and Steve bites his lip.

“That’s very kind of you. I’m glad you did. So, uh, working at night must make hanging out a bit difficult. Do you, ah, I mean when do you normally hang out with people?”

“I make time for friends and people I wanna see,” Bucky says. “My job is flexible enough that if I want to spend time with someone, I can take off or get Becca or Justin to take over. One of the benefits of owning your own business and working with people you can trust.”

Steve flips over, his ear pressing against the phone as he pulls at a loose string at the end of his duvet. He needs something to do with his hands. Bucky’s deep voice dripping with that cocksure Brooklyn accent is making him giddy.

“So uh, do you, um, hang out alot?” Steve stammers.

“Do you mean date?” Bucky asks bluntly.

Steve clenches his eyes shut, both grateful and anxious. “Yeah, I mean date. Are you seeing other people?”

There’s a pause at the other end. Steve's staring wide-eyed at the headboard and balling the edge of the duvet in his fist like a stress ball.

“No. I’m not seeing anyone right now. You’re actually the first person I’ve talked to like this in months. I’ve hooked up with a few people, but they were just one time things, you know?”

“Not really. I don’t really do casual,” Steve says.

“No way? That’s shocking,” Bucky says in a deadpan voice.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Steve says, smiling.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

**Steve:** Bucky, please, please tell me you didn’t vote for this idiot

 **Bucky:** Which one? There are so many

 **Steve:** The one I’m practically sitting next to right now. The Chief Idiot. I can’t believe he just said that. Every fucking thing that comes out of his mouth is ridiculous. I oughta give him a piece of my mind

 **Bucky:** Oh please do. Steve I’m begging you to be the hero we all know you are and punch him out like you did Hitler. They’re practically family anyway

 **Steve:** You know I never did that right? It was a show and then it became a rumor and the rumor became myth.

 **Bucky:** Symbolism is everything, Steve. Show or not, you made a statement

 **Steve:** Are you blowing smoke up my ass right now?

 **Bucky:** Steve if I ever blow anything on you, it won’t involve your ass, unless of course you're into that

 **Steve:** Bucky!

 **Bucky:** Tell me you’re not thinking about it right now :p

 **Steve:** I’m not having this discussion on text

 **Bucky:** It’s called sexting Steve get with the times. All the cool kids do it. It's the safest sex around

 **Steve:** There’s nothing sexy about writing dirty things on your cell phone. It’s kinda silly actually

 **Bucky:** Oh really?

 **Steve:** I honestly think people just do things like that for shock value. Where’s the intimacy? The passion? It’s just words. You can’t even hear or see the person.

 **Bucky:** Oh it does require imagination but it can be very stimulating when done right

 **Steve:** I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it

 **Bucky:** How about I give you an example to illustrate my point

 **Steve:** You really don’t have to

 **Bucky:** You sure? ‘Cause I really wanted to express how much it turns me on to imagine being on my knees in front of you. I always picture you in full uniform. The stealth one. You’re so hot in that one

 **Steve:** Bucky

 **Bucky:** So you had a hard day, bone tired and you need a little R &R. When you come through the door, I’m there waiting for you on my knees, wearing only a lace thong, with my mouth wide open. You say you need to get cleaned up first, and I stick out my tongue and beg to do the honors

 **Bucky:** Steve?

 **Bucky:** You still there?

 **Steve:** Yes

 **Bucky:** Would you like me to go on?

 **Steve:** If you like

 **Bucky:** Ha! I knew you’d be into it. Fun right?

 **Steve:** Asshole.

 **Bucky:** :D 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

**Bucky:** So when you told me your mom used to take you to Old Stone House Park, was that true?

 **Steve:** Definitely. One of the best memories of my childhood

 **Bucky:** Does Brooklyn look like a completely different place now?

 **Steve:** Not really sure. I’ve only seen pieces of it, and it’s usually during a battle or at night.

 **Bucky:** That’s right. You said you needed a tour guide. I’m still available to do that for you, if you like

 **Steve:** I would

 **Bucky:** How about this weekend? Like Sunday?

 **Steve:** Are you sure you’re ready to be out in public with me?

 **Bucky:** Are you? That’s the real question

 **Steve:** I want to...

 **Bucky:** But you’re not ready

 **Steve:** I just need to think through how that’s going to go. People kinda lose their minds when they see me out. I don’t want to subject you to that. It also makes you a target

 **Bucky:** I see. So like we’re never going to do anything out in public

 **Steve:** I’m going to call you, okay?

When Bucky’s phone starts to ring, he doesn’t pick up right away. He doesn’t want Steve to hear he's upset. He takes a deep breath, and then accepts the call.

“Hello?”

“Bucky, I never said I don’t want to take you out,” Steve rushes to say. “I’d love to take you out on the town. And I’ve invited you out on dates before, remember?"

“Yeah, when you were wearing someone else’s face or a baseball cap and shades. Is that what it’s gonna take get you out on a date?”

He can hear Steve’s breathing. It’s slow and measured.

“I just need to think about how to do it. I have to avoid drawing unnecessary attention and mitigate threats to you.”

“Does anyone know you’re gay?” Bucky blurts out.

There’s a sigh on the other end that sounds like exasperation. “Actually, I’m bisexual, and yes, a few of my teammates have figured it out.”

“But you haven’t like come out to the public yet, right?” Bucky doesn’t know why he’s pressing this, but it’s been on his mind since they started really talking.

“No. But not because I’m ashamed of my sexuality or care about my image,” Steve says. “I just hate the press, Bucky. I don’t want to draw any more of their attention to the people I care about.”

Bucky gnaws on his bottom lip. “So I guess that means I’m your dirty little secret?”

“No. Just...please give me a some more time, OK?” Steve asks with such an earnest and imploring manner, Bucky’s irritation begins dissolving. “I promise we will.”

“Okay,” Bucky finally concedes. “We can wait. But eventually I want to see Star Wars with you. In fact, I’m not going out in public with you until you’ve seen the original trilogy.”

“Fine,” Steve says. The little smile in his voice is reassuring. “I’ll watch it this weekend.”

“I’ll watch it with you. We can watch it together over the phone.”

“OK,” Steve says enthusiastically.

They hang up, and Bucky finds himself smiling. Sure, it’d be nice to watch Star Wars with Steve actually in the same room with him, but at the rate they’re going, he’s holding onto hope that day will come very soon.


	8. Stephen, Kiss Me Through The Phone

After weeks of meeting clients for potential new gigs, Bucky is thankful there’s only one more to knock down. The most important one. He’s fussing with his hair, when Steve’s latest text comes in.

 **Steve:** have you ever been in a room and everyone is talking about you, but not to you?

 **Bucky:** yes, it’s called a hospital

 **Steve:** Ha. No wonder this feels like deja vu

 **Bucky:** That’s right, you used to be in the hospital a lot. It’s easy to forget

 **Steve:** for you maybe. It’s burned into my memory. I hate them

 **Bucky:** not too fond of them myself. I think I left my left arm in one. :D

 **Steve:** That’s not funny Bucky

 **Bucky:** Sure it is. Lighten up, Stevie

 **Steve:** Stevie? Not sure we’re there yet, pal

 **Bucky:** Oh we’re there, bro. Let’s see, we’ve been on at least 4 dates. Granted, you were disguised as someone else each time, but still, I’ve earned the right to call you Stevie

 **Steve:** Those weren’t dates. Not proper ones. But fine, OK, I’ll let you have that one, BUCK

 **Bucky:** I like it. It rhymes with one of my favorite past times

 **Steve:** Classy

 **Bucky:** It’s the only way I know how to be, Stevie

There's a knock on Bucky’s door, and he groans before dictating to his phone. “Sorry, Stevie. I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

When he opens the door, Becca is standing there, her eyes suspicious. “Who were you talking to? And why are grinning like a loon?”

Tucking his phone in his pocket, Bucky tries to look nonchalant. “Nobody. You ready?”

Becca gives him a skeptical frown. “You know this is our biggest potential venue. We have to look professional. Can you throw on a button up to at least cover your t-shirt?”

Bucky groans. “Fine!”

He changes and ties his hair back. Justin is waiting for them downstairs, and Bucky is surprised to see him so put together. Justin is probably one of the grungiest grunge dudes he’s ever met. Nirvana T-shirts and holey jeans is practically a uniform. Today though, he's wearing a button-up green oxford with black jeans, and his red hair is pulled back from his forehead with some sort of gel.

“Fancy,” Bucky comments.

“Yeah, whatever. This is my ‘show me the money’ look.”

Becca and Bucky smile.

They take the B52 bus to the Q train to get to Manhattan, the entire way discussing their new business model. Becca’s smart; she has it all laid out. Bucky likes the plan, he just doesn’t like what’s required to execute it. To acquire new gigs and get more exposure they have to put themselves out there more. This entire month she’s set up appointments and they’ve been running around the city making new contacts. Meeting new people is nerve-wracking. Bucky hates it. If the world could fall away to just Becca, Justin, sometimes his parents, his nice customers, and probably maybe Steve, he’d be perfectly content. Today, they’re meeting their biggest prospect, the owners of Brandy's Piano Bar. When Bucky, Becca, and Justin arrive, they’re struck by the glamour of the bar. This is no hole in the wall or dive bar.

The owners are nice enough, and don’t make a big deal out of Bucky’s amputation, which is sometimes a featured part of conversation with new people. He’s pleased with the way the meeting is going, until the owners mention Jay-Z and Beyonce’s interest in hosting some shindig with a portion of the evening dedicated to karaoke. They want to develop a relationship with Shining Star for the event, and perhaps a probationary karaoke night that could become a long-term gig. They’re willing to pay a generous sum, which Becca manages to keep a poker face about. Bucky and Justin follow her lead and act unaffected, but as soon as they leave the bar, Becca exclaims, "Holy shit! That’s a lot of money!”

“And exposure," Justin says. "Shit, dude, I think we hit the jackpot.”

Bucky nods and smiles despite the uneasiness in his gut. “Looks like it.”

“And as soon as you sign that Blink 182 contract, we’re really going to take off,” Becca says with pointed look.

Bucky sighs. “Yeah, OK.”

“Bucky, the deadline is approaching and--”

“I’m still reviewing it, Becca. Please drop it.”

She and Justin exchange another one of those annoying glances that implies Bucky is being weird.

“So, are you still talking to that guy?” Becca asks as they walk down 2nd Avenue.

Justin’s head whips around sharp, his eyes hard. “What guy?”

“Um, you don’t know him,” Bucky mutters, shooting a deathly glare at Becca.

“I hope it's not one of those gym bro fuckers. I know you love yourself more than that."

They’re both watching him closely.

Bucky gives an awkward one shoulder shrug. “It’s not what you guys think. That wasn’t a prank. We all just jumped to conclusions a little too fast."

Justin looks like he wants to argue, but Becca is quick to seize an opportunity Bucky knows she’s been waiting for. “Cool. So when can we meet him then? I mean if he has nothing to hide, he should be fine with meeting your family and friends. Unless this was a one-night stand?”

The heat rushing to his face is more annoying than embarrassing. There’s just some things you don’t talk about with your baby sister, no matter how much she insists. “Becca, we just went out once. Okay? And my sex life is none of your business. Fall back.”

That stubborn look on her face is too familiar; Bucky wears it often.

“So, you don’t plan to see him again?”

Bucky gives a long ragged sigh. “Yes. Maybe. We’ll see. Right now, we’re just doing the phone thing.”

Justin raises his eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“Very,” Becca says.

“Oh my god, yes!” Bucky exclaims, happy to find a exit to this dreadful line of questioning. “I forgot how close we were to Caffe Noi. Let’s go.”

“We have to get back and get ready for tonight,” Becca reminds.

“We’ll make it quick,” Bucky says, already darting out at the break in traffic to cross the street to one of his favorite coffee shops in the city.

They get their coffees and pastry orders and sit down a small table near the window. Bucky will never admit it, but he could live in a coffee shop like this. It’s cozy, with its dark wood decor, and they play old tunes like Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday. Most people favor the Starbucks right next door, which means the cafe is always on just the right side of occupied.

Justin and Becca flirt like always, while Bucky stares at his phone. The little bubbles notifying him that Steve is writing something have been moving for a solid 5 minutes, and it has Bucky’s interest piqued. He takes a discreet sip of his drink to mask his excitement while he waits.

 **Steve:** I hate meetings. Worst though are meetings about meetings. They couldn’t send a memo?

Bucky smiles, wondering why it took so long to write a few words. Bucky has a few jokes to make about long meetings he’d love to tell Steve, but he’s not going to invite more interrogation by talking on his phone in front of Justin and Becca.

 **Bucky:** :(

 **Steve:** Exactly how I look right now.

“Is that him?” Becca asks, leaning in to look.

Bucky abruptly closes out of his message app and puts his phone away. “Maybe.”

Becca shakes her head, smirking. Justin is studying Bucky like he’s trying to figure out something, but he never says what.

They quickly leave to get prepared for tonight’s gig. The conversation turns to the value of the old request system versus the new online apps. Bucky indulges Justin in debate, all the while wondering if the buzzing in his pocket is Steve texting all that.

Bucky’s grateful when they split to shower and change. He pulls out his phone and discovers he has 8 text messages and 2 missed calls.

 **Steve:** It’s just, I think there has to be more to life than this

 **Steve:** I didn’t intend to get existential, but that’s what 3 hour meetings do to me. I start questioning what are we here for? What is my purpose and is being in a 3 hour meeting fulfilling it?

 **Steve:** And no one ever really talks in these meetings. It’s all small talk and talking about what we’re going to talk about.

 **Steve:** I hate small talk. But it seems to be a part of this job

 **Steve:** The PR stuff. Shaking hands and kissing babies

 **Steve:** I actually don’t mind kissing babies. I hope what I just said doesn’t come across as arrogant or ungrateful. I’m very appreciative of my privileges. I recognize what an honor it is to be in my position

 **Steve:** Shit. I probably sound like I’m reading from a script. Please just ignore everything I just texted. Chalk it up to being stuck in a conference room full of really boring people talking about boring things that probably won’t affect anyone anywhere. I’m sorry for venting to you. It’s inappropriate

 **Steve:** I’ll call you later, OK?

Bucky grins down at the messages. Steve overthinks a lot. He files that away for teasing later.

 **Bucky:** Wow, you really went deep there.

The phone rings, startling him.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry about that,” Steve rushes to say. “Those long meetings drive me kinda crazy.”

“It wasn’t really crazy, what you were saying before.”

“The press would think so. They would take that entire rant out of context. Probably call me unpatriotic."

Something clicks then. Bucky leans back. “Yeah, they’re always looking for something though. They love to build people up to tear them down. They’re gonna do that no matter what you do, Steve.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m not going to help them do that. And I trust the people in my life to be just as cautious.”

There’s a gravity to his voice that sucks all of the casualness out of the exchange. Bucky tenses as he debates saying the thing that’s been on his mind since Steve revealed himself in the diner.

“There’s a difference between caution and losing who you are though,” he pushes out. “I understand you have to think about your image, but you can’t give up your entire life just to be a symbol. That’s no way to live, Steve.”

“It’s the cost of being in my position.” Steve says it like it's the simplest answer in the world.

“That’s pretty damn expensive. Do you ever think about taking a day off, or a week? Or maybe even retiring?”

The answering silence is hard and protective, like Steve's holding up a shield. Bucky feels compelled to apologize. “Steve, I’m sorry. I’m outta line. I shouldn’t--”

“Yes.”

Bucky closes his mouth.

“I think about it a lot,” Steve continues. “More and more lately, actually.”

“But?” Bucky ventures.

Steve makes a sound that’s in between a sigh and a groan. “But I made a decision to take all of this on when I chose this path. I can’t just run and hide. With great power comes great responsibility.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Did you steal that line?”

“It’s common wisdom, can’t be stolen,” Steve replies.

“Yeah, but someone said it first…” Bucky says, racking his brain until it hits him. “Hey! That's a quote from the spider guy. He said it last week on TV.”

Steve huffs. “It still applies. The point is, I’ve been given an extraordinary gift and it would be wrong to just drop the shield so I could go karaoke bar-hopping full time.”

“But you want to, don’t you?” Bucky says quietly.

There’s no reply. Bucky begins to suspect he’s poking something fragile, a soft spot in a wall meant to keep people out. He wonders what will happen if he keeps pushing. Will the wall give way, or will Steve bring in reinforcements to guard it?

He switch subjects to avoid finding out. “Are you singing tonight?”

“What?” Steve asks. “Oh, yeah, I’m going to hit up that club Piano Grand Karaoke in SoHo. Clint suggested it.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, hating how that stings. Steve hasn’t been to one of his shows in weeks. Bucky can admit now that he misses him singing, even if he did it badly. Even as Grant, Roger, and Stephen, Bucky always enjoyed Steve’s performances.

He tries to avoid asking why Steve is still doing karaoke somewhere else. But the question of why Steve is making a trip all the way to SoHo when Bucky’s DJing two blocks away from the Tower sits on his tongue. He rolls it around a bit and decides its sounds a little too much like nagging. “That’s… that’s a cool bar.”

“Yeah, it seems like it. The pictures on their website look really neat. It has a really intimate vibe. Kind of old-timey.”

“Speaking of old-timey,” Bucky says. “How come you never perform any old songs, like the kind you grew up with?”

Another long pause. Boy, Bucky feels like he made another left turn and is taking a long stroll through Steve’s baggage.

“I doubt anyone wants to hear that kind of music,” Steve says quietly.

“Since when do you care what other people want?” Bucky asks. He studies the Captain America photo on the NY Post paper he pretended to discard weeks ago that's still sitting on his bedside table.

“I don’t, but part of the fun of karaoke is getting the crowd into it. Bing Crosby and Billie Holiday won’t inspire a sing along or dancing. Most of the crowd wouldn’t even recognize that kind of music.”

The pillow beneath Bucky’s head feels like a safe place to say the next part, so he rolls over before confessing. “Well, I do. And I’d sing along and dance with you, if you wanted me to.”

There’s a few beats of silence, and Bucky buries his face as he regrets saying it.

“I know. That’s why I used to love coming to your shows."

“You know, you don’t have to stay away. I mean, I’m still a little mad at you, but I’m mostly over it. I’d love for you to come back and put a couple of songs in. Old songs, like the ones you grew up with.”

“That’s a sweet offer, Bucky. I’ll keep in mind.”

Bucky’s eyes fall on the digital clock and he sighs, “Speaking of which, I better go get ready for tonight.”

“Yeah, me too. Have a good time,” Steve says.

Bucky tries to tamp down on his disappointment and sound cheerful when he says, “Always do.”

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve decides to forego the sunshades and baseball cap of Grant, and go with the Stephen mask for karaoke at Baby Grand. Clint promises Steve’s going to be in for quite an adventure, since tonight’s theme for the bar is Fortune Cookie-oke, where the luck of draw will land you with one of 30 of the all time greatest karaoke songs. Steve arrives at the bar early, as Clint suggested, and secures his seat at the bar before placing an order for his usual.

After his conversation with Bucky, Steve feels bolder. There’s a lot of chatter and laughter taking place all around him, but it’s Bucky’s voice he keeps mentally rewinding. Bucky’s questions, about taking a break from Captain America and singing songs from his childhood, left Steve feeling prodded and unearthed. It was scary, but also exhilarating to be be really examined and explored, not as an icon, but as someone worth _knowing._

“Cookie, sir?” a tall brunette woman asks him, holding out a basket of fortune cookies.

“Yes, thank you,” Steve says, handing her a $10 bill.

He retrieves the fortune cookie and opens the wrapping to break it open. Inside there’s a little slip with a song title on it. Pleasantly surprised, Steve smiles. He knows this one. It’s in heavy rotation in the ‘Decade Hits’ Google Play station Sam suggested. He’s pressed repeat for this song several times.

“Did you get a good one?” the waitress asks.

Steve nods and shows her the slip. She writes it down and asks for his name and if he’d like anything to eat.

“Steve,” he says, deciding to ditch the fake monikers. What’s the difference really, anyway? “And yes, I’d like your burger special.”

She nods and walks away, and Steve is surprised to feel his phone vibrate. It’s a text from Bucky. A video.

Steve presses ‘play,’ and is greeted to the sight of Bucky, wearing a tight-fitting red henley. He’s working the mic like he usually does, with one exception -- he’s singing to whoever is holding the camera, giving Steve a close up view of those ice-blue eyes.

Steve stands up and walks right back outside so he can hear this.

He’s heard Bucky sing before, and isn’t surprised at the smooth and melodic tone of his voice. But he’s never heard Bucky sound this sensual, not even when they sung ‘Sexual Healing’. He’s wrapping the end of his long hair around his finger like a naughty schoolgirl and giving the camera sexy smirks. There’s an audience behind him, but he has his back to them so he can eye fuck the camera, and it all feels very intimate.

By the time he gets to the chorus, Steve’s half hard.

 _Hey I just met you_  
_And this is crazy_  
_But here's my number_  
_So call me maybe_  
_It's hard to look right at you baby_  
_But here's my number_  
_So call me maybe_

  
When the video finally ends, Steve shoots back a ‘heart eyes’ emoticon and adjusts his jeans, before going back inside. He gulps down his mineral water but it doesn’t seem to help -- his mouth is still dry.

As he waits his turn, Steve’s thoughts turn to Bucky once again. It’d be nice to see him sing like that up close. The videos are nice, but they tease at what Steve is missing out on. This is all Steve’s fault, he knows it is. He told Bucky he wanted to strategize the way things went down in order to protect Bucky, and he still does. The thing is, though, that Steve’s enjoying getting to know Bucky. He’s learning something new every day about him, and the relationship they’ve forged through text and random phone calls feels special. Meeting up with Bucky in person still means bringing in other people, whether it’s his teammates, the press, or the public. If they start publicly dating, Steve isn’t sure how any of those variables will affect what he and Bucky have.

“Next, we have Steve!" yells the DJ. "Come on up here, Steve.”

There’s some encouraging applause as Steve takes to the stage and is handed the microphone.

The first few chords have people going “ahhh!” and “yes!” Steve smiles because he knows the crowd is going to help him out.

 _Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit lonely_  
_And you're never coming round_  
_Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit tired_  
_Of listening to the sound of my tears_

  
Steve can’t even hear the sound of his own voice, and that’s fine -- this feels like a group sing-along anyway.

 _Turn around bright eyes, every now and then I fall apart_  
_Turn around bright eyes, every now and then I fall apart_  
_And I need you now tonight_  
_And I need you more than ever_  
_And if you only hold me tight_  
_We'll be holding on forever_  
_And we'll only be making it right_  
_'Cause we'll never be wrong together_

 

By the end of it, the entire bar is swaying, people are grinning ear to ear, and Steve feels like he’s responsible, even though it was just the luck of drawing the right fortune cookie. Someone pats him on the back, and he turns around to see the DJ pointing at him.

“That was epic,” he says. “Do me a favor?”

Steve comes closer out of curiosity, to see what the guy is going to ask him. The DJ pulls out a $10 bill from his pocket.

“Pick another one. You know how to inspire a crowd. It’s a good look.”

Steve laughs and waves off the guy’s money. “Save your money. You don’t have to pay me to have this much fun.”

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky sends Steve three more videos of him serenading the camera. Steve tells him he keeps them all. The subject of actually meeting up in person is never broached, and Bucky wonders if that’s his fault. Steve used to tell him that he wanted to strategize how it would go down.

Perhaps Bucky is being too impatient. But in the blink of an eye, the days have turned into weeks, and now it’s been over a month since they met up at the diner.

“So, um, what are you doing right now?” Bucky asks one night.

“Talking to you,” Steve says with a smile in his voice.

“No big meetings, or villians to round up?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “But I can let you go if you have something else---”

“Not so fast, punk,” Bucky interrupts. “I’m just saying, it’s just hard to get you on the phone sometimes.”

“I'm getting better though, right?”

Bucky rolls over, smiling. “Yeah. You are.”

Suddenly, Steve groans. “What the fuck?”

Bucky is still not used to hearing Steve curse. The word ‘fuck’ still sounds strange coming from someone so good-hearted and earnest.

“What’s wrong?”

 “Oh, the usual. The press is up my ass. They’re still speculating about who the ‘real Steve Rogers’ is.”

“Sometimes I wonder that myself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. Sometimes I just wonder what else they managed to keep out of the history books.”

“Why? Are you gathering intel to blackmail me?”

“Damn, you caught me,” Bucky says in a deadpan voice. “My secret plot all along has been to get you to spill your secrets, and maybe get some nudes.”

“No sex tape?” Steve asks.

Bucky chokes out unexpected laughter. No matter how much he calls Steve the world’s greatest undercover little shit, it still catches Bucky by surprise sometimes.

“I mean, if you’re game, so am I. Might as well make this blackmailing business worth my while.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Steve says with fondness in his voice.

“Says the punk who’s suggesting a sex tape for his own blackmail,” Bucky shoots back.

“Yeah yeah yeah. Have a good night, Bucky.”

Bucky doesn’t want to hang up though. “You have somewhere to be?”

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, “No.”

“You always kinda rush off, I notice. I mean, I know you’re a busy man and all…”

“No, I’m not busy at all actually. I just...never been a phone guy, I guess. All my experiences with the phone have been related to war and S.H.I.E.L.D. business. I’m used to keeping it short and sweet.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to break you out of that,” Bucky says. “Talking on the phone can be a lot of fun. Hang on.” He walks around to his clothes hamper and pulls off his shirt with one good tug.

“What are you doing?”

“Undressing,” Bucky says. He pushes his sweats down, now in nothing but his boxers.

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks. His voice sounds raspier than Bucky’s ever heard it.

“Yeah. You can just sink into conversation, really get to know someone, especially if you can’t see them a lot.”

“Bucky, I really want to--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You wanna take me out, but there’s a lot to consider. I get it, Steve. We’ll talk about it later. I’m not gonna bust your balls about that right now. I do want to get back to this other Steve you mentioned. Before the serum. The guy who got kept out of the history books, tell me more about him.”

“What do you want to know?”

Bucky makes his way to his bed and gets settled on his back.

“Well first off, I wanna know know who you dated? Girls, of course, but--

“Actually, there was one boy.”

“No shit,” Bucky says, flabbergasted. “How the hell did you keep that a secret?”

“Oh, Bucky, so young and naive.”

“Shut up, old man.”

Steve chuckles. “I grew up in a neighborhood that protected its own. It was dangerous, but not impossible. We had our ways.”

“So really, what you’re telling me is that you’ve always had a secret identity?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve replies slowly like the idea is novel.

“So you’re not a virgin.”

Steve actually laughs. It goes on for entirely too long, to the point where Bucky begins to feel stupid.

“It’s not that funny,” Bucky says defensively. “There’s no mention of you having any partners. And even that stuff about you and Peggy Carter was mostly conjecture. There’s no real proof you two were ever together.”

Steve’s laughter subsides and then he goes very quiet.

“Steve?”

“Peggy and I, we didn’t get our chance,” Steve says. “We came close, but the war got in the way.”

“You loved her though?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. The sadness in his voice sends a pang through Bucky’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I shouldn't have pushed.”

“No. No, I don’t mind talking about her, especially with you."

Bucky tries to imagine himself in Steve’s large shoes while carrying the weight of what could have been. “I heard about her passing last year. I’m really sorry. That must have been hard.”

Steve sighs. “Yes, and no. I’m sad she’s gone, but I’m glad she’s at peace and that we got to talk before she left. Felt like there was closure, you know?“

Bucky nods, even though he knows Steve can’t see him. “I’m glad to hear that. Do you… do you ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t crashed?”

There’s a long pause. Steve hums. “When I first woke up, that’s all I could think about. What kind of life I gave up. Especially considering the one I woke up to. But I don’t think much about what could have been anymore. I’m starting to like the present, this new world. And I can actually imagine a different future now. With... someone else.”

Bucky opens his mouth and then closes it. His mind is racing.

“Are you in bed?” Steve asks.

Bucky licks his lips. “Yes.”

“Comfy?”

“Uh-huh. I’m all tucked in,” Bucky purrs. “Why?”

“Bucky,” Steve says with weary fondness. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“What?” Bucky asks, feigning innocence. “I just was going to ask if you could read me a bedtime story.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, sure. Let’s see what I have here...ah, Moby-Dick.”

“Wow, that will definitely put me to sleep,” he says with a yawn.

“Doesn’t sound like you need it,” Steve says. “Get some sleep, Bucky. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Bucky pouts. “Alright, fine. Have a goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight.”

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve is stuck in an underground compound that has a layout which rivals the world’s most complicated mazes. The team stumbled upon it during recon in Paraguay. It was only supposed to be a two-day mission, and Steve promised Bucky he’d call him on Wednesday. But it’s almost Saturday now, and it’s taken them days to cut through the twisted organization doing medical experiments on the local population. And they’re still finding prisoners, some of them children. He can’t go back up until he’s found every last one of them.

“Heads up, guys. This doesn’t look good,” Clint says in their comms.

Steve grips his shield tighter to his chest and forges ahead.

Two days, a dozen international fugitive scientists, and nearly one hundred and twenty women and children later, the Avengers emerge. The stench of chemicals and blood clings to him. He has to stand as they chemically wash him down and do a medical check up. He’s lucky he’s immune to whatever toxins the prisoners were infected with. Natasha, Sam, and Clint have to be put on quarantine.

Steve feels responsible for them, for their situation now. He should have gone alone. Tony probably would have given him another biting speech. He would’ve gladly taken it, if it meant saving his team from being infected by whatever those assholes were injecting the poor locals with down there. He’s so consumed with worry and guilt over his team, that he doesn’t even think about Bucky until he’s back in the QuinJet.

He pulls out his phone and sees over twenty messages. Most of them are wishing him a safe return and asking for an update. Bucky’s trying to put on a cheerful front, but Steve can tell that with each text, Bucky’s more and more out of his mind with worry.

He immediately hits call.

“Steve?” Bucky says, desperation in his voice.

“Yeah, Buck. It’s me. I’m sorry. I was stuck underground. It…was worse than I thought.”

“That’s OK. That’s OK. You’re fine, right?”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. I’m OK.”

“Good. I missed you.”

“Missed you too, Buck,” Steve says, trying to keep his voice from cracking as he looks out the window. “I um, I’m up in the air. I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”

“Sure thing, Steve. Talk to you soon.”

Steve hangs up and tries not to think about the mission -- the way they were living, the way some of them had been poked and prodded. He feels bile rising up his throat as he recalls the stench. He’s not sure a chemical shower will really erase it.

As he scrolls back through Bucky’s messages, he sees one with an attachment. It’s a video.

His heart picks up a little as he opens it.

Bucky’s wearing a clingy t-shirt that shows off his muscles. He’s looking intensely in the camera as he sings:

 _Stephen, Stephen_  
_Why won't you call me?_  
_Stephen_  
_Why won't you call me?_

 _All I know is_  
_You’re my object of affection_  
_My drug of choice my sick obsession_  
_Stephen, why won't you call me?_  
_I'm sitting here waiting_  
_Why won't you call me?_

Bucky bats his eyelashes prettily for the camera as he sways and pouts. And for the first time in nearly five days, Steve laughs.

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

After the first time Steve disappears for five days without notice, it starts happening more. Bucky knows the Avengers are in high demand, and that Steve in particular has a great responsibility whenever there’s an terrorist attack or intergalactic villain. He thinks that it’s something he could get used to, if he could actually see Steve once in awhile. But when all they have is the phone, Steve’s added unavailability sometimes feels like it’s too much. Bucky’s trying, though. He really is.

“Come on, Becca, please, just one more,” Bucky begs his sister.

“I don’t even know why you bother making these dumb videos,” Becca complains. “If this guy was worth your time, you wouldn’t have to. He’d come to your shows to see perform in person.”

Bucky groans. “Stay out of it. The situation is complicated.”

“He’s in New York, right?” Becca asks for the millionth time.

“Yes, but I told you, his job is very high profile, and…shit, Becca, please just drop it.”

Becca shakes her head. Bucky can see Justin looking on in disapproval behind her.

“Fine," Becca says, "but this is the last video I’m making for you. I’m not enabling this shit anymore.”

She holds up her iPhone to record before the bar gets too busy. Bucky combs his hand through his hair and presses ‘Enter’ to start the music. He grabs the microphone and starts swaying his hips to the beat. It’s a really nice beat. Hip-hop but with a bit of pop.

 _Baby you know that I miss you_  
_I wanna get with you tonight but I cannot baby boy_  
_And that's the issue_  
_Boy you know I miss you_  
_I just wanna kiss you_  
_But I can't right now so baby kiss me thru the phone_  
_I'll see you later on.._  
_Kiss me thru the phone_  
_See you when I get home_

He sings most of the rest of the song to the few people who have started to take a seat, rousing up the atmosphere. They smile and sway. He looks back at the camera to sing the chorus once again, and then the song ends, Becca handing Bucky back his phone with a look of disapproval.

Bucky sighs. He half-agrees with his sister about having a long-distance relationship with a guy who lives in Manhattan. It’s pretty pathetic, but he also understands Steve's side. At least, he’s trying really hard to.

It must be hard for Steve. But there's a voice in Bucky's mind that's starting to wonder how much more of this he's going to be able to take.

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

“Spit it out,” Steve says. There’s a smile in his voice.

“What?”

“Bucky, I can tell when you want to ask me something. Spit it out.”

Bucky gnaws at his bottom lips and tries to summon up his nerve. “So um, have you, ah...have you been with anyone since--”

“No,” Steve says softly.

“But you’ve been out of the ice for two years,” Bucky states as if the guy didn’t already know.

“Right,” Steve says simply.

Bucky narrows his eyes. “So you’re telling me you haven’t had sex since 1943?”

“Try 1940, pal,” Steve says.

“Holy shit! Your balls must be bluer than Papa Smurf."

“I understood that reference,” Steve says proudly, which makes Bucky chuckle. “I’m not into one-night stands, and up until now, fighting aliens and supervillains made it hard to find a compatible partner.”

Bucky smiles at the implication of ‘until now,’ but doesn’t comment. There’s a lull in the conversation, but it’s not uncomfortable. These days, the silence between them is easy and free of tension. Bucky can hear the faint sound of Steve breathing, and thinks maybe he could go to sleep just like this.

“Buck,” Steve says softly, pulling Bucky from the brink of dreaming.

“Yeah, Stevie?"

“Thanks for the videos you send. Have I ever told you, you have a very nice voice?”

Bucky keeps his eyes closed as he smiles and buries himself a little deeper into the covers. “No, you’ve never told me that.”

“Well, you do. You could really be an artist if you wanted to.”

“Now you’re just laying it on thick."

“I like the way you dance, too. It’s, well, it’s hard to keep my eyes of you. I think I’ve watched the last one you sent a few times now.” There’s a shyness in his voice that makes Bucky open his eyes.

“Just a few?”

“Maybe more than that."

Peering into the dark, just over his sheet, Bucky tries to picture Steve on his bed right now. Maybe in a pair of boxers, maybe wearing nothing.

“And what are you usually doing when you’re watching it?”

There’s an audible stutter in Steve’s breathing. “What do you mean?”

Bucky smirks and his voice drops a register. “I think you know what I mean, Stevie.”

Steve doesn’t refute or agree, but his breathing is a bit louder. What goes unsaid holds so much possibility, Bucky can’t resist reaching out for it.

“Do you touch yourself when you watch it?” he asks in a low, raspy voice.

The little gasp on the other end is surprising but the thrill it sends through Bucky goes straight to his dick.

“I can’t hear you, Stevie. Answer me. Do you stroke your cock while you’re watching me dance?”

“Yes,” Steve breathes out, like a great sigh of relief. “Yes, Bucky.”

Bucky hums, shifting as his dick fills up and brushes against his soft cotton sheets. A strong wave of frustration hits him. If he had two hands, he could hold the phone in one and jerk off with the other. He groans in annoyance as he props the phone up on an adjacent pillow and turns on the speakerphone. “Can you still hear me, Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve says breathlessly.

Bucky reaches back to the space between his headboard and mattress where he keeps a small bottle of lubricant. He props it up and pumps a dollop of the cool wet jelly into his hand and squeezes his palm to warm it up.

“Can you do it for me now?” he asks as he grabs a hold of his cock. “Can you touch yourself? Or have you already started?”

“Already started,” Steve breathes into the phone.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about while you’re doing it,” Bucky orders, squeezing himself tighter while increasing the friction.

“Bucky,” Steve protests.

“Come on, Stevie, talk to me. Keep stroking that big beautiful dick of yours and tell me what you see.”

Steve moans softly. “I‘m thinking about you dancing.”

“Yeah? Where am I?”

“On stage. There’s…there’s a strobe light and you’re, oh, you’re naked, Bucky. Putting on a show. Just for me, though. Just for me.”

Bucky closes his eyes and pictures Steve jerking off while he’s talking. “Mmm, that’s good, Stevie. I wanna do that for you. Am I facing you, or are you watching my ass?”

“You’re, ah, you’re facing me,” Steve grits out.

“Tell me, what am I doing...come on, baby, talk to me,” Bucky pushes.

“And you’re… you’re watching me with those pretty eyes of yours,” Steve stammers.

“Mmm, yes, Stevie, and where’s my cock, can you see it? Don’t be shy...tell me.”

“Oh god, Bucky…”

“Tell me...where is it, you see it?” Bucky purrs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says. “Your cock is... it’s rock hard and bouncing in my face.”

Bucky’s balls are drawing up, he’s getting close. He squeezes the base of his dick to try and stave it off until he can bring Steve all the way home.

“And where do you want it? Huh, Stevie? Where you want me to put it?”

“Bucky,” Steve protests like Bucky is being cruel.

“Come on now, tell me where you want it,” Bucky says, a little more demanding.

“In my mouth,” Steve whines like Bucky’s wringing it out of him.

“You gotta ask for it, c’mon baby, tell me what you want.”

“Bucky…” Steve begs.

“Come on, tell me, I’m so close, Stevie.”

“Want you to tell me to open wide and take it and then…"

“Then what? What do you want?”

“Ah, want you to fuck my face,” Steve says fast.

“Oh yeah...fuck yeah, Stevie. And you’d take it too, wouldn’t you? You’re so good and thorough, you’d suck it down like a champ.” Bucky’s really panting now and he can’t really stop his hand from working to orgasm. “Want me to come on your face, Stevie? Or in your mouth? Tell me where you want it.”

“Wherever you want, Buck,” Steve says, and breathing is harsh and then he shouts. “Wherev-- oh Bucky!”

Steve’s unfiltered cry pushes Bucky over the edge and his entire body jerks as his orgasm hits.

It feels like several minutes go by until Bucky manages to collect his breath. He’s still locked in a druglike daze when Steve speaks again.

“Wow, that was uh…”

“Intense? Awesome?” Bucky offers.

“Yeah,” Steve laughs airly, like he’s still feeling it too.

“How are you feeling over there?” Bucky asks, checking in.

“Mmm, ‘m good,” Steve murmurs.

Bucky snorts. “You’re already nodding off." 

“Mmm?”

“Now, you can say goodnight, punk,” Bucky teases.

“Good night, Bucky. Sweet dreams,” Steve whispers.

“Goodnight, Stevie.”

 

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

**Bucky:** So that was fun

 **Steve:** It was

 **Bucky:** Wouldn’t mind making that a habit

 **Steve:** Sounds good to me

 **Bucky:** You know, if watching videos ever gets old, I could always give a private show like you wanted

 **Steve:** You’re such a tease

 **Bucky:** I’m being serious

 **Steve:** I’d like that too

 **Bucky:** Are you gonna make me do it over Skype, GChat, or FaceTime?

 **Steve:** What's that supposed to mean?

 **Bucky:** I haven’t seen you in over a month

 **Steve:** I wanted to give you some space

Bucky frowns down at the phone, and thinks real hard how he wants to reply before speaking to his phone.

 **Bucky:** But I never asked for it? You just decided to stop coming to my karaoke events

 **Steve** : I didn’t want to creep you out or make you uncomfortable. I’ve done enough of that

Bucky huffs, and dictates what’s been on his mind for weeks.

 **Bucky:** It’d be nice if you asked me what I wanted sometime

The phone rings. Bucky blows out a hard breath. He’s been dreading this conversation, but it’s been coming for awhile now. There's only so long he can make this work.

“Steve?”

“Hey, look, Bucky, you’re right. I should've asked what you wanted. I didn’t want to make you feel obligated.”

Bucky scoffs. “Listen, I know you’re Captain America and you’re hot and that makes me an idiot sometimes, but give me some credit, will ya? If I was uncomfortable having you at an event, I’d let you know.”

Steve sighs, but out of relief or trepidation, Bucky’s not sure. It has him on pins and needles. He stops pacing and stands, waiting for whatever Steve’s about to say.

“I think it’s probably best for me to keep doing karaoke on my own,” Steve says, and Bucky’s heart caves in. “I love the way you make me feel when I’m singing, Bucky, but its been good, having this thing that I do that’s not tied to anyone.”

“You’re afraid that if things go south with us, it’ll ruin karaoke for you,” Bucky says plainly.

“Maybe,” Steve says.

“Or maybe you would rather we just be phone buddies. I used to have a phone thing with a guy who was closeted. He was in California. We had pretty good phone sex.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, like pen pals. Someone you call or text when you need to vent or get your rocks off. Is that what this is?” Bucky doesn’t mean to sound so bitter, but he feel it seeping out of his pores over having a long-distance relationship with a man only a few miles away.

“No, Bucky, I’d like to date you."

“Could have fooled me, pal,” Bucky says. Now he really does sound angry and he doesn’t care. “You know you haven’t even talked about the plan you said you were working on for how we can make this work.”

He can hear Steve swallow. Somehow, that hurts even worse. Has Steve even been trying, even been thinking about it?

“You never planned on dating me.” Bucky says, matter-of-fact. “I’m just a fun distraction for you.”

“Bucky, that’s not true. I want you so bad.”

“You know what I think, Steve? I think you need to watch your own PSAs. You always tell the kids that actions speak louder than words.”

“You want action, Bucky? Huh? Fine, let’s go out on a date.” Steve says it like it’s a dare or something.

Bucky laughs sardonically. “Oh how romantic! How could I ever resist an offer like that? Especially when you make it sound like a challenge on Fear Factor.”

“This is real life, Bucky. Still high stakes, though. You think you’re ready? Think you can handle getting mobbed by the press? I hope you have enough stamina and self-control to put up with TMZ following your every move. Cause if you don’t, they will eat you alive. And you better make sure Becca and Justin are ready as well, because once we go public, everyone you love is going to be a target. Oh, and speaking of targets? Be sure to keep up with your combat training, because once it’s out that I care about you, I can’t guarantee that someone is not going to come after you, or anyone close to you. And I want to be with you, Bucky. God, I really do. I wish I could promise you that you’ll be safe from anyone who wants to do me harm, but no matter how many ways I examine it, there’s no way I can ever make that kind of promise to you. So are you ready? Because dating me will be a million times harder than any reality TV challenge you can think of.”

Bucky’s heart is racing. He’s gripping his phone tightly to keep it from slipping from his trembling hand. He’s never heard Steve sound this angry. It’s a bit sobering, but more than that, Bucky’s getting pissed off right back.

“I don’t need your protection, Steve. I’m a big boy. Christ, you’re so full of shit! Always telling me how strong and brave I am, but in reality you think I’m too weak to handle all the crap that comes with dating you. If you really think I’m that fragile, then what are we doing? You obviously don’t respect me enough to trust that I can make the decision about whether I want to deal with it. But maybe you’re right. Maybe you need a stronger person by your side. Someone who doesn’t have PTSD, someone with two arms.”

“Bucky, that’s not--”

“Actually, you know what, Steve? Maybe you should stop trying to date regular people all together. It sounds like you think the only type of person who can handle being with you has to be a superhero too.”

“Bucky, I didn’t mean--”

“I have to go. Goodbye Steve, and good luck with your search for the right one.”

Bucky hangs up on Steve and turns off his phone. His eyes are growing blurry and there's an ache in his chest like a growing scream. He can't tell if he's angry or heartbroken, doesn't know what to do, so he climbs into bed and pulls the covers over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> “Call Me Maybe” was written by Jepsen and Tavish Crowe and performed by Carly Rae Jepsen
> 
> “Total Eclipse of the Heart” was written by Jim Steinman and performed by Bonnie Tyler
> 
> “Stephen” was written by Kesha, David Gamson, Pebe Sebert, & Oliver Leiber and performed by Kesha
> 
> “Kiss Me Thru the Phone” was written and performed by Soulja Boy Tellem


	9. Lean on Me

Karaoke has always been an escape. Bucky was twelve when he tore through the comics section of the _Times_ wrapped around a second-hand karaoke machine he’d been eyeing at the Goodwill over a month prior. He made everyone in the living room stop unwrapping their gifts so he could put on his first performance — Michael Jackson’s "Beat It." After that, singing just became a habit. When he wasn’t doing homework, chores, or practicing baseball, Bucky would close the door to his room and practice his next tune. At the end of the week, he’d corral his family into the living room where he and sometimes Becca would sing. He knew his voice was average, but it didn’t matter because in those moments it was more about the performance than staying on key. With a microphone in his hand and the music turned up, Bucky could be anyone he wanted. For a few minutes, Bucky could discard unsightly pimples, thrift store clothes, and the stigma that came with being attracted to both girls and boys and slip on the persona of David Lee Roth, Robert Plant, LL Cool J, and Ricky Martin. He could become something more than Bucky Barnes. He could be important.

Now, karaoke makes Bucky think of Steve.

Becca calls it an infatuation crash, says it's just like coming down from a sugar high. But it’s more serious than that. Bucky’s chest actually hurts. He’s caught himself rubbing it more than once. He thought the pang would fade within a day or two, but every time he checks his phone he gets another one. There are no more "good afternoon, jerk," "you’re amazing," or "help me choose my karaoke song" texts from Steve. All of the memes, jokes, and smartass comments completely stop. Steve can’t sing for shit, but that rich and warm baritone was so soothing it could lull Bucky to sleep and give him the kind of sweet dreams that chase nightmares away.

As the days pass, Bucky starts to depend more on Becca’s loud calls from the kitchen to force him out of bed. It’s harder getting up now, and that’s really saying something. For the past nine months Bucky has become accustomed to reaching for anything that could pull him out of his nightmares and tether him to the present. But since things ended with Steve, his dreams are more vivid and their residue of screaming and gunfire stick around just a little longer. He's also developed a case of acute lethargy at all times.

“Bucky, you have to get up. I made coffee!” Becca says in a super cheerful voice.

It’s the voice she uses when she’s trying not to worry and stabilize a potential Bucky crisis. She’s been using that voice for the past week or so, maybe. Bucky’s having trouble tracking the days lately.

Then there’s a knock on his bedroom door, which is unusual. Becca usually at least gives him a few minutes to get out of bed. It’s weird enough to get Buck to scoot up. "Come in.”

It’s Justin. He has bags under his eyes, and looks paler than usual. Bucky wants to say "you look like shit," because that’s what he usually would do. But something in his friend’s eyes stops him.

“Hey, what's up, Justin?”

Justin shrugs. “Nuthin’. How are you doing?”

Bucky shrugs as well. “Okay, I guess.”

“You mind?” Justin asks, pointing to the space at the end of the bed.

“Nah, come in.”

Bucky watches Justin warily as he shuffles in and plops down on the bed. His eyes are downturned, focused on the carpet.

“It’s been bad lately,” Justin says simply.

Guilt and concern fill Bucky. He’s been so focused on his heartbreak that he’s been ignoring signs that Justin is struggling.

“Have you been going to your--” Bucky makes an awkward floppy motion with his hand to avoid saying ‘support group’ out loud.

Justin nods. “Yeah, I’ve been going, but you know they don’t really… don’t get me wrong. They’re nice folks, it’s just…”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs. “I know.”

“These freakin' aliens and monsters and supervillains got me all jumpy. Sometimes it feels like--"

“We never left,” Bucky finishes.

“Right." Justin nods. "Anyway, fuck my meds. The only thing they’ve really done is break my dick.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh. It’s completely inappropriate and insensitive, but Justin joins in. Combined, their laughter is just infectious and encourages even more.

“I mean… the one thing… that brings me… happi- happiness,” Justin is choking on his words between laughs.

“Fuck those meds!”

“Fuck ‘em! I quit taking them a week ago. I need my dick back.” Justin is still laughing but there’s an edge of desperation in his voice.

Bucky’s laughter subsides as he looks at his friend. They stare at each other for a moment before Justin exhales a great sigh and falls on his back to lay over Bucky’s legs.

Bucky's thankful for the friendship. It's a wonder how they ended up here, and if giving up your libido is really the price of sanity.

There’s a knock on the open door and they look over to see Becca hovering there.

“What are you guys laughing at?” she asks. She’s trying to sound like her bratty self, but her concern in her eyes belies the casualness of her words.

Bucky snorts, but this time Justin doesn’t look as amused. There’s a little red tinge in his cheeks as he glances at Bucky with a nervous pleading look in his eyes.

“Guy stuff,” Bucky says coyly.

“Huh. Well, at least you two are laughing,” Becca says. “You’ve both been mopey lately.”

“Come, mope with us,” Justin invites, patting the space beside him.

Becca smiles a little and makes her way over to the bed. She slides her way across Bucky’s legs to snuggle next to Justin. The weight of both of them on Bucky’s legs is uncomfortable, but they look so damn adorable he decides not to comment about it.

They all just lay there for a few moments and then Justin confesses. “I haven’t been taking my meds.”

Becca lifts her head a little, her eyes round in shock. “Justin!”

“I just… needed a break from them. Sorry I’ve been acting weird.”

“Not weird, just sad. I was worried."

Justin lolls his head to look at her. “Don’t worry. I’m not great, but I actually function better without them. They make me feel like a zombie.”

Bucky watches as Becca reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Justin, I’m sorry. You need anything, you tell me or Bucky, okay?”

“Okay,” Justin says quietly.

Bucky’s so caught up in the raw honesty and intimacy of the moment that it takes him off-guard when they both turn their eyes on him.

“What?” he asks warily.

“That goes for you too, Bucky,” Becca says

“Yeah man, we’re here for you,” Justin says. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed you walking around like someone took all of your knives away.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Becca and Justin both say together. It would be funny if it wasn’t true.

“You were really into him, huh?" Becca says, looking at him with sympathy. "I’m sorry I called it infatuation before. It’s obvious it was more than that for you."

Bucky lets his head fall a little so his hair covers his eyes. He really doesn’t want to talk about Steve with them, especially since he can’t go into details. “I’ll get over it,” he says, and hopes they leave it at that.

“We know you will,” Justin says. “But in the meantime, it’s okay to mope a little. Just don’t do that thing where you’re blaming yourself and putting the guy on a pedestal. You deserve better and I don’t even know him.”

“Honestly, Bucky, you do,” Becca picks up. “I don’t trust anyone who texts that much and won’t meet up with you.”

Torn between feeling touched at their concern and protective of Steve, Bucky says, “Guys, it’s not that simple, there are… I can’t get into it.”

“You always say that, Bucky,” Becca chides. “But you were on the phone constantly with him for over a month and you guys never went out. Was he married or something?”

“No!” Bucky exclaims.

“In the closet?” Justin asks.

Bucky lets his head fall back against the wall and groans. “Kinda? But not really… trust me guys — it’s complicated.”

He can tell Becca isn’t buying it. She looks angry enough to spit fire.

“Bucky, it shouldn’t be complicated to take someone out on a date. It’s not complicated to meet the friends and family. It’s not complicated to just be there. You deserve better.”

Every word feels like a little pinprick to Bucky’s heart. Becca’s voicing every logical reason he had for the breakup, but Bucky’s stubborn empathy for Steve prevents him from basking in vindication.

“You’re right,” he says, hoping that it brings the conversation to a close.

“Damn right I am,” Becca says. “I love you, big brother. And I don’t know this guy, but I don’t think he was worth your time.”

Bucky sighs and hates the quiet voice in his head that whispers to Bucky he’s the one that wasn’t worth it.

“I do feel like shit,” Bucky admits.

Justin and Becca both look up at him with fond smiles.

“You look like shit, too,” Justin says and Bucky laughs because that’s exactly what he would have said as well.

“Thanks, asshole.” Talking about the thing without actually talking about it may have helped. The ache isn’t gone, but it’s no longer excruciating.

“Hey, look at it this way,” Justin offers. “At least you’re free to look like shit off-camera. Have you seen the paper lately?”

“No. What?”

“Dude, your favorite superhero, Captain America, looks like someone going through a midlife crisis. It’s all over TMZ and CNN.”

Bucky tries not to reflect the alarm and guilt he’s suddenly struck with, but he can feel his mouth twisting and knows he’s probably failing.

Becca covers her heart and gives Bucky a sympathetic pout. “I know, right? Poor guy. Probably best if you don’t look for it, Bucky. It’s pretty sad. He stopped shaving and his beard is like all rough-looking, like some kind of mountain man. Oh, and he has bags under his eyes! I didn’t think he could get bags like that with the serum.”

“It’s getting worse, too," Justin says. "You see the picture today? They got him leaving the Tower for some conference and his hair is all gross and greasy-looking and it’s starting to grow past his ears. Not cool-looking like yours, just ‘I don’t give a fuck.’”

Bucky swallows hard. He hates himself a little for wanting to call Steve and comfort him.

“I hope he’s alright, it’s actually pretty disturbing to see him like that,” Becca says. “He’s always so perfect.”

“No one’s perfect,” Bucky murmurs, unsure if his words are bitter or defensive on Steve’s behalf.

Becca raises her eyebrows. “I guess not. Anyway, enough about Captain America. I think I know what you need to help you get over your loser phantom boyfriend.”

“What?”

“We haven’t done a proper post-break up party,” Becca says wagging her eyebrows.

Bucky frowns. “What?”

She props her head on her hand to look at him. “You remember what you did when that jerk Robbie dumped me after senior prom?”

“Punched him in the face? Yeah, I remember.”

Becca grins. “No, after. Ice cream, donuts --”

“And a marathon of John Hughes movies,” Bucky finished with a small smile.

“You game?” she asks.

Justin groans. “Can we break up the sappy romance fest with some sci-fi? Like, some Star Trek.”

“Star Wars,” Bucky says with a challenge. “And you’re on.”

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

“Rogers, are you listening?” Fury says for what may be the second or third time. Steve isn’t sure, but he can tell by the way Fury’s eye twitches that it’s not the first time he’s asked the question.

“Yes,” Steve lies.

Fury purses his lips and continues. “So as I was saying, expect the UN to approve us going in within the week. While we wait, we should develop a number of game plans to take down this threat by land, sea, and air. The guy behind this is very resourceful and probably knows we’re coming. Cap, I want you to lead the ground efforts. Tony and Falcon — focus on the air. And Clint and Natasha, keep your eye on the water. Bruce, we’ll keep you on standby, but check in with all three so you know the layout before we call ‘The Other Guy.’"

They all nod as Fury dismisses them. Steve sleepwalks out of the conference room, just like he’s been sleepwalking through this past week.

“Hey man, wait up,” Sam calls, jogging to fall in line with Steve’s strides.

Steve keeps walking, but gives the slightest of nods while his eyes focus on the elevator.

Sam’s hand on his shoulder stops him. He turns to face him reluctantly. When Sam flinches like Steve is about to bite him, Steve deflates. He has no idea what his face is doing.

“Whoa, easy, just want to check in. See how you’re doing. Man, you look--”

Steve waits him out, trying not scowl, even though he already knows where this is going.

Sam blows out a hard breath and does something he’s never done before - he grabs at Steve’s arm and pulls him down the hall and around the corner, towards the rec room. Once Steve gets the hint, he shakes Sam’s hand off and continues walking with him anyway, resigned to get whatever this is over with.

The doors to the rec room close behind them. Steve waits impatiently with his arms crossed over his chest.

Sam regards Steve warily. “We’re worried about you, man. What’s going on?”

“I’m fine.”

The deadpan look Sam gives him makes him want to turn away. Instead he juts out his chin, readying himself for an argument.

“No, you’re really not,” Sam says slowly. “You stay holed up in your private quarters and none of us can even drop by because you’ve told J.A.R.V.I.S. that you don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Drop by for what, Sam?” Steve asks sharply. It doesn't feel good to snap at Sam, but perhaps if he makes himself clear now, Sam will deliver the message to everyone else. “To see how I’m doing? Or just to 'shoot the shit,' as you say? You and I both know it’s all a smoke screen for checking to see if I’m losing it.”

“Well, are you? I mean look at you man - you look like you haven’t slept or showered for days. That’s not like you. So yeah, we’re worried. Is this about that DJ?”

Steve huffs. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay, Sam? I’ll be fine. I’m sorry TMZ took a few crappy photographs and splashed it everywhere. I’ll clean it up, alright?”

“This isn’t just about the way you look, Steve. You didn’t even hear a word Fury said today in the meeting.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Like Fury ever gives us anything we need in those meetings. I’m always mission ready. I’ve been a bit distracted, but I’ll study the files and meeting log and catch up. It won’t happen again, so you guys can stop worrying about me doing my part.”

The sadness in Sam’s eyes only makes Steve angry. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity. He’s about to push past him to leave when Sam starts speaking.

“That’s not why we’re worried, Steve. Maybe I read this all wrong, but I thought we were friends. At least that’s what I think of you as. And I tend to worry when my friends aren’t doing so good.”

Steve’s hard glare softens as he takes in the doubt in Sam’s eyes. Sam is always so decisive and sure and he wears doubt and insecurity like a poorly made sweater. Steve will not allow Sam to leave this room thinking they’re just teammates. Even if it is hard for him to always to accept the gift of friendship.

“Yes, you’re my friend. We’re friends, Sam. Thank you for your concern. I’m not… I’m not used to people really caring about my well-being, unless it benefits them.”

The sympathy in Sam’s eyes is almost unbearable until he throws out his arms.

“Come here,” he says with a little smile.

Steve raises his eyebrows, unsure of what exactly Sam is asking.

“Come on, man, bring it in,” Sam says patiently. “You’re in dire need of a Sam hug.”

Steve looks past Sam to the door, calculating how fast he’d have to move to barrel his way out without hurting his friend.

Sam keeps his arms extended while waving Steve in. “Don’t even try it. If we’re really friends, you’ll let me do this for you. Come on.”

Steve grimaces and steps forward tentatively until he and Sam are chest to chest.

“Yeah! There ya go!” Sam exclaims as he wraps his arms around as much of Steve as he can. Steve awkwardly waves his arms around Sam’s sides until he realizes Sam isn’t going to make this quick. The squeeze of arms pulling him tighter against Sam’s body loosens something inside of him. Steve closes his eyes and exhales as he raises his arms and hugs Sam back.

When Sam releases him, Steve feels the tiniest smile pulling at his lips. There’s still a cloud hanging over his head but he doesn’t have to walk around under it alone.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime. You should expect more of those,” Sam says with a cheeky smile.

“Oh goody,” Steve says as they make their way out.

When Steve finally makes it back to his private quarters, he pulls out his phone. Over the past week it’s become a compulsive habit, even though the results always produce nothing.

He has all of Bucky’s old messages saved and regularly re-reads them. Late in the afternoon, when they used to talk most, Steve finds himself clicking through his pictures gallery to stare at all of the selfies Bucky sent him.

There are a dozen different ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please let’s talk’ texts saved in his drafts folder, but he also knows that until he figures out how to treat Bucky the way he deserves, none of his texts mean a thing. It doesn’t change the fact that Steve is Captain America and whether he wants to or not, he cannot completely insulate or protect Bucky if they date.

Steve understands Bucky’s position. Nobody wants to be strung along in a relationship going nowhere. The time they spent texting and calling flew by, and now that the bubble has popped, the sudden absence of Bucky feels like the slowest heart attack.

He’s about to check his phone again when the Level 5 Threat alarm goes off.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky, Becca, and Justin have just finished afternoon breakfast when the breaking news alert pings on Becca's phone. Becca looks to both Bucky and Justin, concern in her eyes.

Bucky understands, she’s worried about what happened the last time they watched a breaking news bulletin on live TV. But the need to know what’s happening overrides everything.

“It’s alright, Becca, we’ll turn it on just to see what’s going on,” Bucky says, making his way towards the remote control.

There’s footage being played, apparently from Surabaya, Indonesia. The Avengers are engaged with a giant sea monster with several heads.

“No fucking way, that’s a --” Becca says.

“Hydra!” Bucky and Justin say.

Half of the thing’s heads are rising out of the water, snapping at the feet of Iron Man and Falcon. They both aim high-powered blasters the thing, but its skin is unusually tough and doesn’t seem affected by any of it. As soon as their blasters destroy one of its heads, two more heads sprout up. The other half of the beast is stretched over land, where Captain America, Black Widow, and Hawkeye are fighting it with tanks and a brigade of military behind them. They attack the thing with a barrage of fire, but it only seems to be pissing the thing off.

Bucky sinks to his knees and crawls up to the screen. Even with all of the recent aliens and zombie attacks, this one seems hard to process. It’s like something right out of one of his childhood fantasy novels. As he watches Steve take on the thing, he’s caught between horror and awe.

Steve continuously hurls his shield at the thing’s body, only for one of the heads to knock it back to him like they’re playing a vicious game of frisbee. One of the throws makes it past the thing’s heads and gets stuck in its body like a Karambit combat knife. Steve, the little stubborn shit, isn’t content with just leaving the shield, even though Bucky is sure SHIELD can make another one.

He goes running towards the thing to get his shield back.

“Fuck, Steve, what are you doing?” Bucky cries, gripping his hair with his hand. He gasps as the footage starts to shake and the Hulk comes into the frame. The Avengers fall back and the military stops following as the Hulk grabs one of the Hydra’s heads and just lifts the thing up from both water and land like it weighs nothing.

“Oh my god," says the newscaster. "Captain America is stuck to it!”

Bucky’s heart jumps into his throat as he watches the Hulk slam the Hydra against the ground, over and over again. The flash of red, white, and blue from Steve’s suit looks like a stubborn piece of lint that shakes with the thing, but never drops. The Avengers hover around like they want to intervene but don’t know how. Before they can the Hulk just pushes the monster back towards the sea. Bucky watches as Steve finally let’s go and drops to the ground like a rag doll. And he’s not moving. The Avengers all rush to him as the Hulk punches the Hydra completely under water and follows it down.

“Holy shit, did the Hulk just kill Captain America?” Justin asks in shock.

Bucky can’t think. Just move. He has to move. He vaguely hears Becca shouting ‘where are you going’ and Justin trying to calm him down, but it’s all background noise. He grabs his phone, keys and wallet and takes off out the door, down the stairs to reach the street. He doesn’t really have a plan, but he has to get to Steve.

The cab fare to Manhattan would be more than he can afford, but he’s seven minutes in on an eleven minute walk to the C train uptown when he gets the idea that he should call him. He knows it’s taboo and he’s spent many nights willing himself not to do it. But if there’s ever a time to break his cut-off all exes rule, this is the time to do it.

So he pulls out his phone and finds Steve's number, presses ‘Call’ with the intent to leave a voicemail.

It rings once, twice, three times. Bucky knows it’s about to go to voicemail and he thinks about what he wants to say, but then--

“Hello?”

It’s a woman’s voice. Bucky doesn’t recognize it, but she has a smooth tone that’s all business.

Bucky slows down his steps. “Hello. I’m trying to reach Steve. Who is this?”

“I’m a friend of Steve’s. You must be Bucky,” the woman says.

Bucky stops in the middle of the sidewalk, his heart skipping. He’s afraid to ask, but he has to know. “You know my name?”

“It’s saved on his phone,” she says in a emotionless voice that still manages to sound mocking.

Bucky wants to facepalm himself, but there are more pressing matters. “Is Steve….is he--”

"He’s alive. He was airlifted to medical about an hour ago.”

Bucky sighs, closes his eyes, nearly collapses with relief and has to grip a storefront pole to hold himself up. “Can I… can I talk to him?”

“Not right now,” she says. “He’s injured pretty badly, he’s in critical condition.”

It’s not what he wanted to hear, but it’s still better news than he expected. “Do you mind keeping me posted?”

The silence on the other end is maddening and Bucky starts to wonder how someone so kind can be so cruel.

“And who are you again?” she asks.

“Bucky,” he says slowly like she’s being intentionally obtuse.

“Right, but who are you to Steve? He’s never mentioned you before,” she says coolly.

Bucky huffs. It stings to have it confirmed that Steve has never mentioned him to someone who is obviously in his inner circle. “Trust me. I wouldn’t have this number if Steve hadn’t given it to me. Steve and I know each other through karaoke. I’m a DJ, and--”

“Ah, so you’re the one,” she says like she’s solved a puzzle.

Bucky’s heart starts racing for an entirely new reason. He was wrong. Steve has mentioned him. Maybe not by name, but still, it’s something.

“I guess so?” he replies.

“Alright,” she says finally. “Someone will check in with you. Stand by.”

Bucky begins to turn around and walk back in the direction of his apartment. “Thank you so much. Thank you,” he says, unconcerned with how pitiful it sounds.

The phone goes dead. No reassuring words or even a ‘no problem,’ and although Bucky understands why, it leaves him caught between feeling stranded and grateful that Steve’s not dead.

When Bucky walks back into the apartment, Becca and Justin practically jump to their feet.

“Are you okay? We weren’t sure whether or not to follow you. If you needed space--”

“Where did you go?”

“Bucky, what’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Long story.”

Becca folds her arms over her chest, concern all over her face. “Yeah, you’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

He gnaws at his bottom lip. “I, uh, I don’t think I should DJ tonight.”

“What? Why?” Becca asks, stepping forward.

“Dude, we got you,” Justin says. “Go lay down. Becca and I will DJ tonight.”

“Thanks, guys,” Bucky murmurs, still not quite able to make eye contact.

“Anytime,” Justin says. “I’ll even sing your favorite song.”

Bucky frowns. “You never sing in front of us. You can’t pick the one night I won’t be there to do that.”

Justin smiles. “Gotcha!”

“Argh,” Bucky growls.

“Get better, asshole,” Justin says pulling his hat down.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky grumbles.

“I love you.” Becca looks like she wants to pull him into a hug but thinks better of it.

“Love you too, sis,” Bucky says before watching them leave.

After they’ve gone, Bucky just stands in the middle of the kitchen, trying to sort out his thoughts. It’s hard to get his brain to work when his emotions are flooding everything. Worry. Guilt. Regret. Hope. And scorn. Because why the fuck should Steve’s team give Bucky updates about his condition? They’re not dating. They’re not anything.

He pulls out his phone and considers how angry or upset Steve might be once he learns Bucky called. How invasive and selfish it would look.

He doesn’t have any right.

Just as he starts round two of beating himself up, the screen of his phone lights up with another unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hey man, this Bucky?” a man asks in a casual tone.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cool, cool. My name is Sam. But you may know me as Falcon.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Hi, Sam, uh, Mr. Falcon.”

Sam laughs and the sound eases some of the tension strumming through Bucky’s body. This guy, Sam, has to be cool and if he’s laughing like this, Steve can’t be doing that bad.

“Just Sam is fine. And our boy, Steve is doing better. Upgraded to stable.”

Bucky sighs. “Thank you, Sam.”

“No problem, man. Nice to finally put a voice with the person Steve’s been talking about. Gotta go, but you should be hearing something from somebody soon. Check you later, Bucky.”

Bucky’s mind is racing and he can’t even say goodbye because Steve _has_ mentioned him to the Falcon! Sam Wilson and Steve talk about Bucky?

Relief and hope break through the dam of despair he built and he wants to shout. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Steve really had intentions to date him.

Bucky cleans up then, trying to busy himself until the next update. He washes the dishes, sweeps, mops, makes up his bed, and even dusts. Over two hours go by and he begins to convince himself that the Avengers have given him more than enough. He scolds himself and repeats the mantra that he has to move on and try to figure out how to disconnect himself from this emotional chain that will inevitably choke him.

He shuffles his way into the bedroom and slides beneath the covers, phone in hand. Closing his eyes, he hopes sleep will overtake him if only to give him temporary respite from his persistent thoughts about Steve, how he’s doing, and how he’s going to forget about him.

Halfway into dreamland, the buzz of his phone pulls Bucky back to full consciousness.

“Hello?” he slurs.

“Bucky?”

Bucky draws in a sharp breath. “Steve?”

“Hey, I heard you, uh, called.” Steve sounds hopeful but nervous.

It's hard moving air through his lungs, Bucky’s holding himself so tight, ready for Steve to tell him that he’s not Bucky’s to worry about.

“Yeah, I did,” Bucky gets out.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky nearly huffs, but he doesn’t. “Steve, you were body slammed beneath a giant sea monster by the Hulk.”

There’s a sigh on the other end that sounds too familiar. Bucky’s heard enough Steve sounds to know this one means ‘enough already’.

“Yeah, it probably looked worse than it was. I got a few broken bones, punctured spleen, some cracked ribs, but I’m healing.”

“Christ,” Bucky murmurs, chewing his lip in frustration. He wants to scream but he’s also just so grateful to the universe and Steve’s guardian angel. “Supersoldier or not, you’re a fucking moron. You hear me?” Bucky says, no longer caring about being sensitive. Now he’s just angry. “There was no reason for you to charge in like that just to get your shield back. I’m sure Stark or whoever could make you another one.”

There’s silence on the other end, and Bucky doesn’t know what to make of it. His previous guilt and doubt rise up again. “I’m sorry, I guess I don’t really have a right to --”

“I’m glad,” Steve says quickly. “I’m glad you care enough to nag.”

Bucky scrunches up his face. “I’m not nagging.”

“You most certainly are,” Steve argues. “And it's... it’s nice. I wasn’t sure you....I’m really glad you called.”

The fondness and appreciation in Steve’s voice nudges the longing Bucky’s been trying in vain to bury.

“Steve...”

“Bucky...”

They speak at the same time, and then chuckle softly.

“You go,” Steve says

“No, you, please,” Bucky says.

Steve takes an audible breath. “This past week has been one of the worst weeks I’ve ever had. I missed you so much, Buck. And I realized that you were right. I can’t just string you along and make you wait for me to figure it out. You deserve better. I want to give you everything you deserve, but I have to be honest - I’m not sure if I can.”

“Steve, I don’t--”

“Please, let me finish, okay? I’m not good at talking about… feelings, so just let me get this out."

“Okay,” Bucky says softly, his eyes boring into the duvet.

“You’re the best guy I know. The best person. You deserve someone who takes you out, can show you a good time, all the time, not just when his schedule allows it. Someone who is going to protect you, not someone who’s gonna put you in danger. Someone who is gonna make your life better, not more complicated. I can’t promise you any of that. That’s what I was trying to say before, but I just sounded like… like an asshole. And I’m sorry I yelled at you. It came out wrong. I just want to give you the world, Bucky, but I can’t.”

Bucky hangs his head and tries not to say the first words that sit on his tongue. “Finished?” he asks evenly.

“Yes,” Steve says, and there’s a fragility there that hurts Bucky to his core.

“Steve, I don’t want the world. I want... shit, I just wanna hang out with the guy I’ve been talking non-stop with for the past month. I wanna see your face in person when you laugh. I wanna stop trying to picture what expression you’re making when you’re being a smartass. I wanna kiss you…”

Steve makes a broken sound. Bucky has hope that he’s breaking this stubborn man down.

“I want you to hold me. I wanna snuggle up with you. Watch movies together, in the same fucking room.”

“I want that too."

“So what’s complicated about that?”

“Bucky,” Steve says in exasperation. “I just told you, I--”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Bucky jumps in. “You told me all of the shit that comes with being Captain America. I get it. And I’m telling you I’m willing to put up with the drama of dating Captain America if it means I get to spend time with Steve Rogers.”

He’s nearly out of breath at the end of it, his heart beating wildly as he clutches the phone to his ear, waiting for Steve’s rebuttal or an outright shutdown. It feels like time has stopped and he can’t hear anything on the other end. Bucky pulls the phone away from his ear and looks down at the screen to see if Steve hung up.

“Are you sure?” Steve’s voice is still deep and clear.

Bucky coughs out a dry laugh, grateful Steve can’t see the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Yes, you punk, I’m sure.”

“Okay, Buck.” Steve sounds like he can’t quite believe Bucky still wants him, and isn’t that the craziest thing. Because Steve is kind, smart, brave, beautiful, and so earnest it’s almost ridiculous, who wouldn’t want him?

“Okay,” Bucky repeats.

“I wanna see you when I get home. Can you come to the Tower?” Steve asks.

Bucky sits up. “When?”

“They're still patching me up here, but I should be home in two days.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

After he’s given an ID check, full body scan, and assigned a badge at the front desk, Bucky is directed to wait in the Visitor’s Lounge of the lobby in Stark Tower. It’s all glass and steel, visible to anyone looking in. But Bucky’s looking out, people-watching and waiting. The lobby is far more crowded than he expected. There are people in expensive looking suits and white coats walking with purpose like they’re very busy and important. Suddenly Bucky feels terribly inappropriate in his best jeans and overpriced new t-shirt.

“Bucky?”

Nervous energy and relief have him searching wildly for the origin. A handsome black man is approaching him, and he looks somewhat familiar, but Bucky isn’t sure. Every time he sees Sam Wilson on TV, his eyes are shaded by tinted goggles. The missing wings also throw Bucky for a loop. Without them, the guy is still very buff, but he’s just a man.

“Hey man, welcome to the Tower. I’m Sam Wilson.” He extends his hand, and Bucky takes it enthusiastically.

“Hi, hello, hey, how’s it going? I’m Bucky,” he says without thinking.

“Yeah, man, I know. I just called you that,” Sam remarks with a teasing grin.

Bucky feels his face flush as he nods. “Oh yeah. Yeah.” It’s not until Sam has to wrestle his hand back that Bucky realizes he’s been holding onto Sam like a lifeboat. It feels like he’s drowning here.

“Relax, man, Steve asked me to bring you up. He’s all laid up and bandaged.” Sam leans in like he’s about to divulge a secret and Bucky leans in to listen. “Tell you the truth, he’s not supposed to have visitors, but you know, boyfriend privileges.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide. Did Sam really just call him Steve’s boyfriend? Did Steve tell him that, or is Sam assuming?

Sam’s grin gets wider, like he used that word to have that exact effect. “C’mon, I’ll take you up.”

Bucky nods, glancing around. There are people throwing curious looks his way now, but he tries his best to walk beside Sam and look like he belongs there.

As they walk through the expansive ground floor, a devastatingly gorgeous redhead approaches. Bucky nearly gasps. That is definitely the Black Widow. “You’re _her._ ”

She offers a small smile. It doesn’t quite touch her eyes, though, and Bucky has the distinct feeling he’s being sized up.

“I'm Natasha, if that's what you mean. And you must be Bucky.” She extends her hand and Bucky shakes it, aware that his palm is slightly sweating. The Black Widow is touching him and he’s turning into a giant sweatball. How fucking embarrassing. “It’s nice to finally put a face with the target,” she says.

Bucky cocks his head. “Target?”

Sam snickers. “Girl, you need to stop.”

Natasha gives Sam a shrug and looks Bucky over slowly, her smirk growing more prominent. “You’re cute.”

“Uh, thank you."

“We have to go. Steve’s waiting for him. Catch you later, Nat.”

Sam begins walking towards the elevator. Bucky follows with his head twisted to keep his eyes on Natasha. “Nice meeting you,” Bucky calls.

When he finally turns his head back and slides onto the elevator, Sam has a gleam in his eyes. Bucky sort of loves and hates this guy already.

“I’m gonna tell Steve you were checking his teammate out,” Sam says.

“Are all of Steve’s friends assholes like him?” Bucky asks.

Sam throws his head back and laughs. “Ah, man, I see why he likes you.”

They have a brief chat about their backgrounds and the city. Bucky finds out Sam is from Harlem, and they get into a friendly argument about whether Bed-Stuy is better. By the time they reach Steve’s door, Bucky really likes Sam and he’s a lot more at ease and just plain excited about getting to see Steve again.

The doors slide open and they step in, Bucky practically on Sam’s heels.

He takes a look around and is stunned at the decor. It’s like Andy Warhol meets Keith Haring. Steve seems to have gone through every era since his birth and stolen something he liked to put in his living quarters. Everything is bright and vibrant. One wall is solid sky blue, and the far wall is exposed brick with a beautiful spray painted art deco graffiti figure of a woman that looks a lot like Steve with blond hair and those piercing blue eyes. All the other walls are stacked with various art pieces. Abstract, modern, sketches and photographs. Steve’s apartment looks like an adult playground.

“Sam?” a deep baritone comes from the huge couch. Bucky sees two large feet with gray fluffy socks hanging off of the end.

“Steve,” Bucky says, stepping forward.

Steve’s big hand grips the back of the couch and he tries to raise himself up.

“Oh, no. No, no,” Sam says, rushing to the couch. “Lay your ass down. Now I got your boy here, just relax. Bucky, watch him. He’s not supposed to move around. Extra ice packs in the freezer, make sure he keeps them on his ribs and if you guys wanna, you know...”

“Sam!” Steve protests.

“Just kissing, okay? No bumping and grinding."

“Oh my god,” Steve cries.

“I know it’s hard to resist that dumbass, but don’t let him hypnotize you with those baby blues and a speech," Sam tells Bucky. "If you need to cuddle, focus on the legs.”

“Go, now!” Steve orders, pointing from the couch to the door.

Sam grins and throws Bucky a wink. “Alright, Bucky, nice meeting you. Hope I see you around more often.”

Bucky grins and gives Sam a sloppy salute and then just kind of hovers at the edge of the couch. Steve is quite a sight with fading bruising all over his face and chest, which is half exposed and half covered by visible ice packs and a very comfy looking Thor fleece blanket that doesn’t quite cover his toes. With both hands in his lap, one gripping a gigantic remote console looking thing, Steve looks unbelievably adorable. Bucky wants to give him a hug, but he doesn’t want to do anything that will hurt him.

“Bucky,” Steve says softly, his smile blinding.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky smiles. “Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“Come here,” Steve says.

Bucky walks around the couch and slowly kneels down beside it, real close, his face just a few inches from Steve’s.

“You look like one big bruise,” he says, half teasing. It really is hard to look at the bruising up close. Steve heals fast but it's almost painful to imagine his injuries appeared even an hour ago.

“I’m so glad you came.” Steve reaches out and gently caresses Bucky’s left cheek.

Bucky leans into it, closing his eyes as Steve’s callused hand brushes his skin. He tries not to get too excited but he can’t stop himself from pressing a small kiss to Steve’s palm. When he opens his eyes, Steve is looking back, his stare so intense, it’s almost overwhelming.

“I’m glad too,” Bucky replies. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Stop, you’re my guest.”

“Yeah but I’m not the one busted up. How long did they say it’ll take for you to heal?”

Steve tries to shrug but winces from the effort. “They’re never sure, but I should be mostly fine by later this week.”

Bucky nods. “Good. Well, I can stay with you.”

Steve looks surprised. “Don’t you have to be at work in a few hours?”

“Nah, I took the night off.”

There’s a frown growing on Steve’s face. “I hope you didn’t do that for me?”

“And what if I did? What are you gonna do about it, punk?”

Steve begins to laugh and then whimpers in pain. “Fuck.”

“Okay, seriously,” Bucky says, looking over the length of Steve’s body. “You gotta give me something to do here. I hate seeing you like this. How can I make you more comfortable?”

“Hmm…Can you make popcorn?”

“Okay,” Bucky says, standing up slowly. “Where’s the popcorn?”

“Right cabinet. Bowls are on the left,” Steve calls.

Steve’s kitchen is an extension of his living room, with exposed brick that have purposeful splashes of paint in strategic places. The honey wooden cabinets are a nice contrast with the sleek, futuristic appliances. Bucky has the distinct impression Steve only uses the microwave. He finds the popcorn, tearing the package open with his teeth, and then has a little fun playing with the super high-tech microwave.

When he comes back with a huge bowl of hot buttered popcorn, he sees that Steve has Netflix turned on.

“You up for a marathon of the Godfather series? It’s next on my list.”

“No shit?” Bucky grins. “Hell yeah. Here’s your popcorn.” He gently hands Steve the plastic bowl. "I love your apartment.”

“Thanks,” Steve grins. “I’ll show you around when I get better.”

“Is this all your art?” Bucky asks.

“No, just some of it. Most of the sketches are mine though,” Steve says, suddenly bashful.

“Amazing. You’re really talented,” Bucky says, looking at the adjacent wall at one of his sketch pieces of the Brooklyn Bridge. “And the graffiti piece?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says, staring past Bucky at the woman on the exposed brick wall. “I did that one when I first moved in. That’s my mom.”

“She’s beautiful.”

They both stare at the image for several moments. Bucky can see traces of Steve in the eyes and kind smile. He glances to Steve and how solemn he looks and Bucky can feel the weight of it, how much she must mean to Steve. He realizes how much more about him Bucky has to learn.

“So, you want to start the movie,” Steve says suddenly as if trying to put them back on track.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll,” Bucky gestures to the huge arm chair in the far corner. “Sit over here.”

The look of confusion on Steve’s face stops him. “Buck, I didn’t invite you over here to watch a movie. I wanna…”

“You heard what Sam said,” Bucky says cautiously, trying to tamp down on the giddiness bubbling up. Steve wants to touch him, Steve wants to make out, Steve wants...

Steve fiddles with the huge remote console. Bucky’s eyes widen when the end of the couch begins to extend by several feet.

“No way,” Bucky murmurs, walking over to the couch. He’s about to sit down at the far end to give Steve some space when hear hears a loud huff of protest. Bucky looks up and sees blue puppy dog eyes looking back at him.

“Now I see what Sam was talking about. Are you actually pouting?”

“Come on, Buck. You can lay on my legs,” Steve practically whines. “Just, come closer.”

Bucky gives a long considering look. He can’t deny he wants to crawl all over Steve, and cuddle too. “Okay, but just your legs. You’re still healing.”

“Okay,” Steve says, bright and happy.

As Bucky considers how this is going to work, his face grows hot.

“What is it?” Steve asks in concern.

“It’s just, with my arm, uh, either I have to lay face down or face up. It’d probably be more comfortable if I lay face down and turned my head. Does that...are you ok with that?”

Even through the bruising, Steve’s blush shines bright. “Yeah, sure, if that works for you, it’s good for me too.”

Bucky stifles a smile at the unintentional double entendre.

“Okay,” Bucky says putting his left knee up on the couch to get into position. It’s hard to do this smoothly, especially while Steve is watching him so closely. Steve has gone completely still. Pushing past the weirdness, Bucky just slinks down over Steve’s fleece-covered legs until his head is resting at on Steve’s massive left thigh and his legs are completely stretched out.

Bucky wiggles to adjust and lets his right arm fall off the edge of the couch. Glancing up, all he sees is a huge plastic bowl full of popcorn resting beside the remote console and Steve’s big hand holding it.

Steve clears his throat. “Comfortable?” His voice has a low rasp to it that Bucky recognizes from their phone sex session.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, trying to will his dick not to rise or think about Steve’s. “You?”

“Yeah, this is nice,” Steve says.

The movie starts and Steve sets the remote console down. Bucky realizes he’s holding his breath and won’t be able to watch a whole movie like this. Slowly, he discreetly releases it and tries to breathe normally. That becomes incredibly hard though when Steve’s hand snakes down to run fingers through his hair. Bucky has to hold in a small moan as the pads of Steve’s fingers press into his scalp. Moaning in this position could be dangerous.

“Is that okay?” Steve asks.

“More than okay. Please keep doing it,” Bucky says. “You sure I’m not too much pressure on your legs?”

“No, definitely not. I really like it,” Steve says, pushing up his legs a little to press against Bucky.

Bucky raises his head and narrows his eyes so he can see Steve’s face. “Settle down, now. Don’t get any ideas just because I’m laying next to your dick.”

Steve chokes out a gasp. “Bucky! You jerk.”

Bucky grins and lays his head back down. “Can you put your hand back in my hair?”

“Sure,” Steve says softly.

Bucky sighs and tries to focus on the movie, but it can’t compete with the contentment of finally being this close to Steve.


	10. Under My Skin

Steve wakes with a start. The weight draped over his legs is unusual and he immediately goes into defensive mode, raising his fists to take on the threat.

Steve exhales a sigh of relief as he takes in the fan of Bucky’s hair over the fleece blanket. The early morning sun peeks out above the skyline of the city, spilling into the room. Bucky is holding onto Steve’s thigh and the sound of his soft snore becomes more pronounced now that Steve is listening for it.

Steve smiles, still in disbelief he gets to have this, that Bucky is actually willing to deal with everything that comes with being with Captain America. Of course, there’s still a niggling doubt, a small quiet voice that warns him not to get his hopes up. Dealing with the press and public is a lot easier to do in theory, and Bucky’s never experienced the level of hysteria and scrutiny that comes with being a public figure.

Still, Steve recognizes that last night was a huge milestone. Bucky has met Sam and, from Bucky’s account, Natasha. They snuggled and watched the entire Godfather series before falling asleep on the couch like this. It feels like it’s a real start to something big.

But for right now, Steve needs to take a piss and his legs feel stiff. He contemplates waking Bucky up, but he looks so comfortable. He doesn’t want to disturb him, but Bucky wakes up pretty quickly on his own, jerking up with a small wounded noise as though reading his thoughts.

“It’s alright, Bucky, it’s alright. It’s me,” Steve says. He holds his palms up until Bucky can fully process where he is. Bucky blinks at him, then sighs and falls back down, burying his face in the blanket like he wants to hide.

“Whtheuck!”

“Huh?” Steve asks.

Slowly, Bucky lifts his head. His hair is moussed all over his head like a bird's nest and his eyes look kind of cloudy. “We fell asleep like this?”

“Sure did,” Steve grins.

Bucky flops back down again, his hair the only thing visible now. Steve can’t resist running his fingers through it. It settles something in him. If his bladder wasn't full, he could sit like this forever.

Bucky lifts his head to squint at Steve. “How are your ribs?”

“Better,” Steve replies. He tracks Bucky’s tongue as it swipes his lower lip. Although it’s completely innocent, it’s doing things to Steve’s dick, which only reminds him he really needs to pee.

Bucky appears to notice the hardening beneath his chest and he wiggles a little bit, his smirk growing.

“You’re a tease,” Steve groans.

“Am not. I always deliver,” Bucky purrs, moving like an human inchworm up Steve’s body. The friction is amazing and painful. Steve just watches him until Bucky’s chest is pressed against his and they’re staring at each other, nose to nose.

This close, it’s easy to get lost in Bucky’s blue-grey stare, and he can feel Bucky’s arousal pressed between them.

“I have morning breath,” Steve whispers, apparently unable to think straight or control his mouth.

“So do I,” Bucky says, his tongue sliding out again.

Instinct kicks in and Steve lifts his head to chase that tongue with his mouth. Bucky’s answering moan sounds like music and Steve palms the back of his head to hold it still so he can kiss Bucky more thoroughly.

They explore each other’s mouths and Steve’s head spins as Bucky makes these little groaning sounds. When Bucky starts to actually grind his erection against Steve, the fullness of Steve’s bladder turns pleasure into pain.

“Shit,” Steve pants, breaking the kiss.

“Gotta piss,” Bucky groans.

“Oh thank god,” Steve sighs in relief.

Bucky looks at Steve like he’s crazy. “If you had to piss, why didn’t you just say so?”

“You looked so cute when you were sleeping, and then this happened and I just wanted to enjoy the moment,” Steve admits with a small shrug.

“Oh my god, you’re a real sap, aren’t you?” Bucky says as he tries to leverage his way off of top of Steve. It doesn’t work out so well and he begins to tumble off of the couch, but Steve catches him before he hits the floor.

Bucky’s face is beet red, like he’s embarrassed. “I’m good,” he grunts as he pushes up and plants his feet on the floor to stand.

Caught between sympathy and a spark of nervousness that he’s caused offense, Steve tries not to stare as he walks around the couch to head to the bathroom. When Steve hears the door shut, he breathes out a hard breath.

He worries that perhaps he’s messed everything up when Bucky comes back out with a smile on his face. It’s like nothing even happened. Steve isn’t sure what to make of it but he wants to make himself clear.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was just trying to help,” he says, hoping he’s not digging a deeper hole for himself.

Bucky shrugs. “It’s fine. I just don’t like people thinking I can’t handle stuff on my own.”

“I understand,” Steve says. “I get like that too.”

“You don’t say,” Bucky teases.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m working on it, alright? My team gives me enough shit about that.”

“Well, good,” Bucky says grinning and extending his hand.

Steve accepts it, but is careful not to actually pull, cognizant of his super strength. When he gets on his feet, he stretches and lets out a long groan, relieved to have use of his muscles again.

There’s a curious tinge of red creeping across Bucky’s face and he’s averting his eyes. “You like it when I make that sound, Buck?”

Bucky scowls up at him. “You’re such a punk. Don’t you gotta use the bathroom?”

Steve grins and makes his way around the couch, putting a little swish in his hips. It’s kinda silly, but Bucky is definitely watching him and it feels good to be wanted and admired like this. He takes a long piss and brushes his teeth, anticipating picking up where they left off, but when Steve comes back out, he finds Bucky talking on the phone and pacing the length of his living room.

“I’m sorry, Becca, I’m sorry. I think I hit the ‘Do Not Disturb’ function by accident.”

Steve isn’t sure what he should do. Retreat into the bedroom, or stick around for moral support? Would he look nosey? He just kind of stands back at the corner where the hallway meets the living room.

“I know. I know… Look, I’m safe, okay? Argh, please Becca, I don’t want to get into this right now.”

The pacing stops as Bucky locks eyes with him. Steve points back down to the hallway, asking silently if Bucky needs privacy.

Bucky shakes his head and waves him closer. Surprised, Steve steps forward. Becca already doesn’t like him. He wishes there was something he could do to make this better.

“Oh, no. What?” Bucky exclaims. “Oh god, shit. okay. Yes. I will. Put him on, I got it.” Suddenly, Bucky’s posture straightens and he focuses all of his attention on the expansive windows.

“Justin, hey buddy. Talk to me,” Bucky says in a voice Steve’s never heard him use before. It’s a mix of a commanding officer and the counselor-like tone Sam sometimes uses.

Steve freezes.

“Yeah it’s me, Bucky. That’s me! Yes, I swear. I’m sorry I didn’t call, Justin. I think I accidentally switched off my phone, but I’m good. How was the show? Was it good? Justin? Please talk to me.”

Steve holds in a breath.

“Just breathe, okay? I’m sorry, Justin. I didn’t think. I figured you guys were working and then you'd come home and fall asleep. I’d planned to call in the morning. I wasn’t thinking. But I’m here. Yes. Yeah, right here. In Manhattan. Huh-uh. Where?” Bucky looks up and Steve nods quickly without a second thought.

Bucky gives him an appreciative small smile and affirmative nod back. “Stark Tower....Yeah, that one. Tony Stark, yes, the one and only... Because I’m staying with a friend… no, the one I’ve been... moping over." Bucky's face turns red. “No, Justin, he’s not an asshole. What's his name?” Bucky repeats nervously, glancing up at Steve.

If it’s come to this, it’s not worth keeping secrets. Steve walks over and gives Bucky another encouraging nod.

“Okay, well, his name is Steve Rogers… No lie, I swear. No, I’m not bullshitting you. I’m not. Listen, Justin, I swear on my life. I wouldn’t joke about this. Yes, that one… no, he’s not an asshole. He’s really not. That’s the reason why things were so complicated and why I couldn’t really talk about it. I swear to god… Uh, ok.” Bucky winces and holds the phone to his chest. “Do you mind--”

Steve nods and takes a deep breath as Bucky gives the phone to him. “Hello, Justin.”

There’s a lot of rapid heavy breathing on the other end of the line. Steve just stands there and waits it out while Bucky paces in front of him.

“Justin?” Steve says again.

“Yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”

“My name is Steve Rogers,” Steve says simply.

“ _The_ Steve Rogers. Like, you’re Captain America?”

“Yes.”

More silence.

“You ok, Justin?”

“I’m better,” Justin says slowly, still breathing deeply.“So you’re dating Bucky?”

Caught off guard, Steve glances to Bucky. They haven’t really discussed the whole dating thing.“I want to,” he replies truthfully.

Bucky chews on his thumbnail, watching Steve’s face. Steve hears Becca’s voice and then some shushing.

“I’m putting you on speakerphone,” Justin says suddenly.

“Okay,” Steve says and puts Bucky’s phone on speaker as well. Might as well include everyone.

“Please state your full name and position again for Becca,” Justin requests.

“I’m Steve Rogers. Captain America, and I'm here with Bucky in Stark Tower,” Steve says.

“Oh my god,” Becca says. “Bucky! _This_ is the guy?”

“Yeah, Becca, this is the guy,” Bucky replies.

“Holy shit!” She’s half-laughing, half-gasping.

“You know, if you’re really Captain America,” Justin says, “you should understand the importance of safety check-ins.”

Bucky covers his mouth, but there’s a smile peeking out.

Steve nods. “You know what, Justin, you’re absolutely right. I should have made sure Bucky let someone else know where he was. I won’t let that happen again.”

“Repeat what you said about dating Bucky,” Justin demands.

Steve gulps. Bucky is watching him closely. “I said, I would very much like to date Bucky, if he’ll have me.”

“I can’t even… is this real life?” Becca asks.

“Dude, this is crazy!” Justin exclaims.

“I know it is, guys,” Bucky says. “And I promise, I’ll explain everything when I come back. But for now, I just want to make sure you’re okay, Justin.”

“Yeah, I’m good now. Totally confused about your love life, bro, but I’m good,” Justin says, and there’s a lightness in his voice that makes Bucky smile. “Just make sure you keep your phone on, or at least remember to check in, asshole.”

“Sure, Ma,” Bucky sighs.

“You coming back tonight, Bucky?” Becca asks.

“Uh, what day is it again?”

“Oh wow, you’re losing track of days now? Captain, what are you doing to my brother?”

“Nothing he doesn’t want,” Steve is quick to say, not thinking about how it sounds until it comes out.

There’s a shocked gasp and then snickers. “Holy shit, Captain America is freaky.”

“Shaddup,” Bucky says.

“It’s Thursday, Bucky. We’re booked to play at Dalton’s on 8th.”

Bucky scrunches up his face. “Shit, okay. Yeah. I’ll be back by 4.”

“Good,” Justin says.

“You better,” Becca says, a soft demand lacing her words.

“Okay guys, gotta go,” Bucky says. “See you soon, okay?”

“Alright, bye! Oh, and Steve, look forward to meeting you!”

“Me too,” Steve exclaims back, mimicking Becca without even realizing it.

They hang up and Bucky starts laughing. “Why were you yelling at my sister?”

“She started it,” Steve says with a shrug.

Bucky shakes his head and walks up to him, pushing the full length of his body against Steve and pressing him back against the couch.

Steve raises his hand to brush Bucky’s bangs to the side. Bucky grips Steve’s t-shirt and raises himself up on his tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on Steve’s lips.

“Thanks for doing what you did,” he whispers.

“No problem. He sounds like a good guy,” Steve says. “And I’m sorry I didn’t remind you to do a check-in.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Totally my fault. Sam was right about those baby blues of yours. I think I lost a few hours looking at you.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, I need coffee,” Bucky says, pulling at Steve’s t-shirt.

Steve chuckles. “Of course you do. I was gonna ask, you wanna eat in or go somewhere?”

The scintillating press of Bucky’s body against him makes the answer clear.

“We’ll order in,” Steve says.

Steve orders a specially made breakfast straight from the Tower’s cafeteria, and while they wait, Steve shows Bucky the coffee maker. The morning turns much brighter when Bucky discovers some gourmet brand of ground coffee from South Africa in the back of one of Steve’s cabinets. For the next thirty minutes, Bucky is vibrating perfect happiness.

“How in the world did you not know you had this gift in your possession?” he asks in awe as he takes a longer sip.

Steve throws his hands up. “Once you meet Tony, everything will be clearer. There’s stuff in my kitchen I’ve never heard of or wanted. That’s all Tony.”

“Well I love him already,” Bucky says, taking another whiff.

A strange spike of unpleasantness strikes in Steve’s gut. He tries to restrain the grimace twisting his mouth and force a smile instead.

“Stevie, are you getting jealous?” Bucky asks with a smirk over his mug.

“No,” Steve says a bit forcibly, jutting out his chin.

“Okay.” Bucky smiles to himself, which is kind of irritating.

The food arrives and they eat in companionable silence for a few minutes and then Steve clears his throat, unsure of how he wants to ask the question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Bucky swallows down his omelette and looks at him, waiting.

“Does that happen a lot?”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “What?”

Steve does an awkward little head jerk to the living room. "With Justin."

Bucky shifts in his chair. “Uh, no. Actually that's never happened before,” he says quietly. “Justin is -- well, _was_ \-- the Communications Sergeant on my team. I was Weapons Sergeant. We’ve had each other’s backs for a very long time. When we both got discharged after the….”

Steve waits him out as Bucky struggles with the word.

“Incident,” Bucky finally settles on. “Afterwards, he followed me here. Actually, now that I think about it, aside from time in the hospital, for the past three years, Justin and I have always been able to reach each other. This may have been the first time I’ve been unavailable.”

“Wow, that’s… great,” Steve says as a mix of longing and envy washes over him. “I’m glad you have someone you can depend on like that.”

“Yeah, he’s like a brother to me. You know how it is. I’m sure it’s the same way with your team here,” Bucky says.

Steve frowns a little and gives a slow nod. “Yeah.”

He can feel Bucky watching as he averts his eyes to focus on his hashbrowns.

“I mean, I figured since you’re living here with them…” Bucky says tentatively. “Sorry, none of my business.”

Steve takes a long sip of his orange juice and then sits back to look Bucky plainly in the eyes. “No, it’s fine. I think we’re working on that.”

Bucky raises one eyebrow in question. “Care to elaborate?”

Steve can feel himself shutting down, and he hates that it’s his natural response. He wants to share things with Bucky, but it’s not easy getting things out.

“You don’t have to,” Bucky rushes to say.

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s just… I think they want...more from me.”

“But….”

“But….” Steve sighs. “Everyone I knew before is dead, Bucky. And on my first day out of the ice, SHIELD tried to trick me into believing it was still 1945. I might have a little trouble trusting people.”

Bucky chuckles. Steve can feel himself scowling. “You think this is funny?”

Dropping his fork, Bucky leans in. “From a guy who pretended to be someone else for several weeks? Oh yeah, I find the irony hilarious.”

Steve stares at him, watching him grin. When Steve flicks a crumble of scrambled egg perfectly across the table and it hits Bucky smack-dab in the center of his forehead, it elicits a shocked gasp. 

“You’re a smartass, you know that?” Steve tells him.

“You really are an asshole!” Bucky cries before picking up a liberal portion of lox to fling at Steve’s face.

Steve is quick and raises his arm to deflect it, but a bit of it still manages to land in his hair. Bucky actually _giggles._ Keen to nip this in the bud, Steve rises from his chair, which prompts Bucky to reach for the basket of pastries.

“Oh you want a piece of me?” Bucky asks with bravado. “Huh? Come on, punk. Bring it.”

Steve feels a evil grin spreading over his face as he grabs a handful of his leftover hashbrowns, smashes them together and creates a hashbrown ball. Bucky tries to duck but Steve is too fast and catches his ear with it. Potatoes fly everywhere when the hashbrowns hit the wall.

“Sonabitch!” Bucky shouts and begins to throw fast pitches of croissants.

Steve is a dirty fighter though, and is quick to crawl beneath the table to wrestle the croissants from Bucky. They finally end up in a tangle on the messy floor, where Steve uses his strength to pin Bucky at the arm. There’s a dark satisfied look in Bucky’s eyes that seems to indicate he doesn’t really mind being in this predicament, and from this position, Bucky’s pouty lips are too tempting.

Steve leans into to kiss them. Bucky’s mouth tastes like ketchup, strawberry jam, and orange juice. Bucky seems to enjoy the taste of Steve too, humming in appreciation as he hooks a leg around Steve to pull him closer. There’s flaky bread, bits of egg, and potatoes stuck to both of them, but Steve doesn’t think he could be happier.

  

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Once they’ve cleaned up the kitchen, they realize there’s still food stuck all over themselves.

“You can use my shower if you like,” Steve offers, trying not to get flustered. Just picturing Bucky with less clothing is doing interesting things for him. “I’ll use the spare one.”

Bucky’s eyes pop. “Damn, you have two showers in here?”

“And a whirlpool bath, yes.”

Bucky whistles as he walks closer, giving Steve’s body a long admiring perusal. “I wouldn’t mind taking a bath with you in the whirlpool.”

Steve swallows. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” he whispers. His breathing hitches when Bucky presses his warm palm right between his pecs. Steve can practically feel the beating of his heart pounding into Bucky’s hand, and they both just stand there, staring at each other, feeling it together.

“It would,” Bucky says, his tongue swiping his bottom lip. When his eyes flicker to his left side, his expression shudders. “Everything in good time, right?”

The mix of arousal, disappointment and relief swirling inside of Steve has taken away his speech, so he just nods in agreement. Bucky finally pulls back his hand and the enchantment breaks. Steve turns away quickly to find a towel and some of his smaller clothes for Bucky to change into, then leaves him to it.

It’s very hard not to touch himself in the shower, knowing Bucky is naked and wet in the next room. Steve loses the battle. He figures it’s for the best if they’re going to spend the day together. Without some relief, the sexual tension will inevitably impair his thinking. He strokes himself off thinking about Bucky showering, and how his wet skin would taste if Steve was in there with him.

When he finally emerges squeaky clean and changed into clean clothing, he hears singing coming from the spare bedroom. Steve walks quietly to the cracked-open door to listen as Bucky sings softly:

 _Don't you know, little fool, you never can win_  
_Use your mentality, wake up to reality_  
_But each time I do, just the thought of you_  
_Makes me stop before I begin_  
_Because I've got you under my skin_

 

The sound of Bucky’s voice gets closer, and Steve tries to step away from the door. Before he can, Bucky yanks it open. “Oh, shit,” Bucky says.

“Uh, sorry,” Steve starts, feeling ridiculously weird and a little creepy.

There’s a mischievous glint in Bucky’s eye as he saunters up close. Steve likes the baggy way the t-shirt he gave to Bucky hangs on his lithe muscular frame.

“You spying on me, Stevie?”

Steve sputters. “No, I just wanted to, uh, see if you needed anything…”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky smirks. “Well?”

“Well what?” Steve asks.

“Did you like it?”

Steve’s mouth is suddenly dry from the heat in Bucky’s stare. “Yeah, Buck. You have a really nice singing voice. What song was that?”

“Sinatra, ‘Under My Skin.’ He’s a little after your time, but considered a classic now.”

“I’d like to hear more, especially if you’re singing it,” Steve says.

Bucky moves in slowly, hand snaking around his hip. Bucky slides his tongue across Steve’s mouth. As Steve opens his mouth to him, all he tastes is coffee. Faintly, Steve thinks he wouldn't mind taking his coffee like this every day.

  

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky tries not to be a pest after he leaves the Tower for Brooklyn. It’s hard though, now that he’s had an opportunity to actually taste, touch, and hold Steve. The experience of him is so much better than the dream. Bucky wants more of him, so much more. He thinks about inviting Steve to his next Shining Star gig, but then decides against it. He doesn’t want to be one of those clingy, needy boyfriends.

In fact, Bucky’s not even sure if that’s what they are. Even though Steve stated twice that he wanted to date Bucky, they still have not discussed what exactly it is they are doing. Are they picking up from where things ended before? Or are they starting over and just getting to know each other? Bucky has no idea how a relationship like this is supposed to work - he hasn't dated anyone seriously in years, and he’s never dated someone with Steve’s fame before.

For the next few days, they trade texts and phone calls the way they used to. Steve never asks or hints he wants to attend a Shining Star event, so Bucky doesn’t ask him to drop by. But as the days pass, Bucky’s anxiety begins to build. It’s starting to feel like before, where their only method of contact was the phone. That didn’t work out very well.

He still checks his phone constantly throughout the night, and sends Steve little messages about what people are singing. He even makes a short video of him singing “I’m Too Sexy” and Steve texts back that says he definitely is.

But Becca and Justin are not happy.

Becca keeps asking about Steve, and when they’re going to meet him. Bucky’s reply of ‘soon’ doesn’t seem to hold much weight, and there’s always a bit of skepticism in their eyes, like they don't think this is a good idea. Finally, Becca just stops asking, and that feels even worse.

Bucky's mulling all this over when he returns from their gig at Legion in Williamsburg early Monday morning. He pulls out his phone and there’s a new text, even at 3am:

 **Steve:** call me when you get in

It’s not a normal thing for Steve to ask, especially when he knows how hard Bucky crashes after a performance. Concerned, Bucky leans against his front door and presses ‘Call’. The phone only rings once.

“Bucky?”

“Hey, Steve. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just... I miss you,” Steve’s voice is full of earnest longing.

Bucky exhales in relief. “Me too, Steve. Me too.”

“This feels like what we were doing before,” Steve says nervously.

“It does,” Bucky agrees.

“I don’t want us to get stuck in old habits,” Steve says. “I want to see you as often as I can. But I also don’t want to smother you. Honestly, Bucky, I don’t know how to do this.”

Bucky laughs and closes his eyes, his heart feeling ten pounds lighter. “Me either, Stevie. I don’t really do relationships. So this is new for me too.”

“I know you just got home, and need to go to bed, but… can I come over and sleep with you?”

“Yes!,” Bucky blurts out without even thinking about it. “I’ll text you the address. Just call when you get here and I’ll wake up.”

“See you soon,” Steve says and Bucky can actually hear the huge grin in his voice.

An hour later, when Bucky’s phone starts ringing, at first he thinks it’s a part of a dream, and he swats at it hoping that the scene will shift. But then it clicks. Bucky jerks up and stumbles to his feet to open the door. Steve is there with a duffel bag and… a bouquet of roses? His sleep-addled brain has him just standing there until Steve moves forward and says, "Mind if I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, I don’t really have a vase,” Bucky says looking into his kitchen. The digital clock on the range hood reads 4:09am.

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “I’ll find a cup to put them in.” He motions to the kitchen with his head. “You get back to bed.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, you’re my guest, I'll get it.”

Steve pulls the roses away from his reach. “Bucky, back to bed. I’ll take care of it. I’ll be in there soon.”

Too tired to argue, Bucky gives Steve a half-shrug and turns around to retreat to his bedroom.

He’s almost completely gone back to sleep when he feels a weight descend on his left side -- the side he always protects. He reaches for the knife underneath his pillow--

“It’s okay, Buck, it’s me, remember?” Steve says, setting a soothing hand against him as he scrambles.

Bucky’s eyes pop and he searches for Steve’s features in the dark. There’s a sliver of light from the streetlamp sneaking in between a broken blind. It illuminates Steve’s blond hair.

“Do you want me to sleep on your right side?” Steve asks in concern.

“Stevie, gotta warn a guy,” he slurs as he puts his head back down. He feels big fingers tracing his face, brushing the hair back from his forehead, and then smooth cool lips pressing into his forehead. Bucky sighs in contentment, his heart rate coming down, and drifts back into unconsciousness.

  

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

He wakes up to screaming. His own or the village woman, or --

A new voice cuts through the noise. “Bucky, Buck...Bucky, you’re safe. You hear me? You’re in your bed in Brooklyn. It’s me, Steve….”

“Steve,” Bucky repeats and he can feel the roughness of the word in his hoarse throat. “You had a nightmare,” Steve says calmly.

So it was him screaming. Bucky closes his eyes, wishing he could turn and hide underneath the bed or something.

“It’s okay," Steve says. "I have them too.”

It’s hard to really listen or believe him. All Bucky can think about is how crazy he looks. Inviting Steve over may have not been the best idea. They haven’t seen each other in days and this can’t be what Steve meant when he said he missed him.

Bucky hangs his head, wiping the sweat from his brow. “‘M sorry,” he mumbles.

“Hey, hey,” Steve says and Bucky can feel his warm hands caressing his hair on the left side. He tries not to flinch, tries to look more calm than the storm passing within him. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Bucky. I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sure waking up to someone in your bed for the first time in a while--”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, that’s… that’s not it. I have nightmares, Steve, most nights. When I came to the Tower to visit you, I got lucky that night. It was one of the few times I slept without….”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says. “I’m not just trying to make you feel better, Buck. I really do have nightmares too. At least you’re trying to do something about it.”

A sardonic laugh escapes Bucky. “What? You mean the therapy and drugs? I guess you can see how well they’re working…”

He’s grateful that Steve doesn’t protest or try to convince him it’ll get better. His strong, quiet presence and hand against Bucky’s cheeks is better than any words that could be said.

Several minutes pass before Bucky feels more like himself. He falls back onto the mattress and groans. “What time is it?”

“Uh,” Steve scooches up to his side, peering over him. “Your clock says it’s twenty past two.”

“You must be starving?” Bucky says, smiling up at him.

Steve suddenly looks bashful. “Well, actually, I sorta ate breakfast….and lunch too.”

Bucky gasps and laughs. “Oh my god, what?”

“You know I have to eat a lot for my metabolism,” Steve argues. “And you were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you.”

With his stubborn frown and the dramatic set of his brow, Bucky can only smile at how cute defensiveness looks on Steve.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asks. “I can fix you something.”

“Steeeeve!” Bucky whines. “You gotta stop doing that. You come over in the middle of the night and bring me roses, cuddle with me, and then put up with my fucked-up PTSD, and now you’re offering to make me lunch in my own fucking apartment. You’re making me feel like a rotten host.”

Steve chuckles and leans over to kiss Bucky. It’s sweet and chaste, and Bucky wants more than that, but he also knows his breath is kicking hard. He wants to wash up and look presentable if they’re going to get into it. Plus he really is hungry.

Bucky squints his eyes as he takes Steve in once more. “Did you shower already too?”

“Yep!” Steve says in a bright tone that Bucky finds equally endearing and ridiculous. “Had a nice little jog too. There’s some nice scenery around here.”

Bucky just looks up at him in wonder. “Unfuckinbelievable.”

The sound of the front door slamming sets Steve into action. He flings off the covers and jumps from the bed into warrior’s stance. Bucky fights to control his smile.

“That’s my sister,” Bucky says, stretching his hand over his head and yawning.

“Are you sure?” Steve whispers, his demeanor softening a little.

“Bucky!!” Becca’s voice calls.

Bucky sighs. “Yep.”

They hear the front door open again, this time when it closes, it’s not a slam. A male voice says something unintelligible and Becca replies before calling for Bucky again. “Bucky, it’s time to get up!”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower. Wait here for me?”

Steve nods like he wouldn’t dream of going out there alone, which Bucky finds funny. Captain America, nervous about meeting his sister. He pauses to find a change of underwear, a fresh t-shirt, and sweats to save him the embarrassment of asking Steve not to look at his stump and extensive scarring the way he struggles to change into clothing. He wants to avoid any and all of that.

“Bucky, are you up?” Becca calls again.

“I’m up, alright? Calm your tits!” Bucky calls back. Steve looks at him, shocked. Bucky finds that hilarious.

“You talk to your sister like that?”

Bucky shrugs and then disappears in the bathroom. Half an hour later, he emerges changed and ready to face the inquisition. Judging by Steve’s face when he re-enters the bedroom, that’s exactly what he’s expecting as well.

Steve stands when Bucky comes out of the bathroom and Bucky extends his hand to him. Steve takes it and squeezes.

“They don’t bite, promise,” Bucky says quietly. “They do bark though.”

“I deserve a little barking.”

Bucky can’t really argue with that, so he opens the door and just starts walking, Steve trailing behind him.

“It’s about time, you got up. I was just about to---”

Becca stops mid-sentence as Bucky rounds into the kitchen. Both she and Justin are sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand, gaping up past him.

“Whoa, okay. Um, hi,” Becca says to Steve.

“Hello,” Steve says. “You must be Bucky’s sister, Becca?”

“That’s me. And you must be Steve Rogers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replies. Becca half-gasps, half-laughs as she looks to Justin with wide disbelieving eyes.

Justin’s eyebrows disappear beneath his shaggy red bangs. “Didn't think we’d actually ever get to meet you,” he says without a trace of humor.

Bucky takes a breath and glances back at Steve to gauge his reaction.

Steve simply nods. “I’d like to apologize for that. It shouldn’t have taken this long to meet both of you.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Becca asks, and Bucky wants to tell her to mind her manners, but he also wants to hear Steve’s explanation.

They all look back at Steve while he stands tall like a man facing a firing squad. Bucky caresses the inside of his palm and offers a small smile.

“The truth is, I wasn’t ready. But I am now,” Steve says earnestly.

Justin and Becca exchange a look Bucky can’t quite decipher, then Becca stands. “Would you like some coffee, Steve?”

“Uh, sure, thanks,” Steve says.

“What about me?” Bucky asks with a pout.

Becca rolls her eyes. “Get it yourself.”

“You see what I have to deal with around here?” Bucky says, following his sister deeper into the kitchen.

Steve takes a seat and although Bucky has his back to him, he’s listening for any interaction Steve may have with Justin. There is none. Bucky wonders if it’s as awkward as he’s picturing.

Becca fixes Steve’s cup without asking if he’d like sugar or cream, which Bucky takes as a sign that she’s just ramping up for the interrogation. She walks back and hands Steve a steaming hot mug of coffee before taking her seat again. Bucky follows, taking a seat beside her.Becca takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes darting between Steve and Bucky.

“So when do you plan to actually take my brother out, Steve?”

“Becca!” Bucky scolds.

“No, Bucky,” Becca barrels on. “Captain, I’m sorry, I really respect your work with the Avengers, but when it comes to my brother, I’m not very impressed. You’ve been stringing Bucky along like some dirty little secret for over a month.”

“Becca, fall back,” Bucky says. “You’re out of line, okay? Steve’s in a real difficult position, and--”

“No, she’s right,” Steve interrupts. “It was a pretty crappy thing to do. And to answer your question - very soon. I plan to take Bucky out on a proper date.”

“Really?” Justin says. “Because you’ve said that before, but you kept dicking him around.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, as though surprised at Justin’s candor. “You’re right. I did. But it wasn’t intentional. It was nice just talking to Bucky without worrying about other people taking pictures and speculating about my private life. I guess I lost track of time. Does that make sense?”

“Sorta,” Justin says, still studying Steve warily.

“That isn’t the only reason, though,” Steve continues. “I also wanted to protect Bucky. As you all know, my lifestyle can be quite dangerous. I hoped to have a plan in place before news about me and Bucky got out. Once it goes public, I will have limited control over how things play out. To be perfectly honest, all of your lives will change, and I guess I wanted to delay that as long as possible. It's not easy or pleasant being caught in the spotlight on me.”

“So what’s the plan then?” Justin asks.

Steve clears his throat. “Uh, there really isn’t one. I guess we’ll just have to take things as they come. Before things hit, you all might want to get a P.O box to secure your mail, and make sure all of your phone numbers are unlisted. In terms of security, if there's a threat that might get to you, I can make sure there are eyes on the ground and people monitoring your homes, keeping you safe. Email and incoming phone calls can also be screened if that ever becomes an issue.”

Steve's discussed all of this with him before, the measures Bucky will have to take once their relationship goes public still unnerve him, listed in a row like that. “Shit,” Justin whispers, reading his mind. “This is really happening, huh?”

Bucky gives Steve a small smile, hoping he looks brave. “Yeah, it really is.”

“So Steve,” Becca says, apparently unfazed. “Now that that’s out of the way, I have another question.”

“Becca,” Bucky warns.

“Just one,” she says innocently, and Bucky knows that tone. "Didn’t we sort of meet you already? For a while, there were all of these guys with your same body type hitting on my brother. Now it seems like, meeting you, maybe one of them was you the whole time...”

“Yes,” Steve admits, his face turning a bit pink. “They were all me. I wanted to sing karaoke without drawing attention to myself, so I used disguises. But it wasn't about deceiving Bucky. We just happened to hit it off every time I came to his show.”

Becca cocks her head and studies him. Bucky holds his breath. He doesn’t need her permission, but it sure as hell would be easier to date Steve if she likes him.

“Mmm, okay,” Becca says, real slow and measuring. “Well, I suppose everything is out in the open now.”

Steve nods. “That's the idea.”

Becca looks from Steve to Bucky. “You better take care of my brother, Steve,” she says. She has the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Jesus,” Bucky murmurs. His shoulders relax as he sips his coffee. Finally, he’s able to really enjoy the taste of it.

Steve nods. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh my god, please stop calling her that,” Bucky says. “She’s gonna think she’s grown up or something.”

Becca smacks Bucky’s arm as Justin chuckles. Steve watches all of them with what seems like tentative amusement.

“Okay, Becca, you’ve said your piece,” Bucky says, effectively putting an end to the grilling. “Now, can you guys kinda leave? Me and Steve need some alone time before our gig starts.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, come on, Justin,” Becca says, rising. “Let’s leave these two lovebirds to their little filthy nest.”

“Hey, I resent that!” Bucky says. “I clean.”

Both Justin and Becca give Bucky a dubious look. Steve snickers.

“Goodbye!” Bucky says firmly. “I’ll see you two at Justin’s in a few hours.”

“It was nice to finally meet both of you,” Steve says, extending his hand between the two.

Justin takes it and shakes it with a smile, which is a good sign. Becca just ignores Steve’s proffered hand and goes straight for a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist. Steve looks surprised but returns the gesture, his eyes finding Bucky, who gives him a thumbs up.

Just before Becca pulls away, she gets on her tiptoes to whisper something in Steve’s ear. Bucky has no idea what that’s about, but it seems fucking ominous. Already they're conspiring. That has dangerous potential.

Once they finally leave, Bucky locks his front door and throws his head back. “Thank god that’s over. Are you okay?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, it wasn’t so bad. Actually, I’m glad we had the conversation.”

“Me too,” Bucky says, already focusing on what he and Steve can get up to in the next three hours. “What do you think of going back to bed for a while and just making out?”

Steve’s smile could light up the entire apartment. “I think that sounds perfect. Do you uh, mind if I join you tonight for your karaoke event? I won’t get in the way, but it’d be nice to see you DJ and do some karaoke with you behind me.”

Bucky does a mental fist pump but tries to play it cool when he walks up to Steve to run his hand up those steel abs and perky pecs. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The kiss that follows is slow and sweet, but when they break Steve has a curious expression.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“What’s Blink 182?” Steve asks.

Bucky groans and lets his head fall onto Steve’s chest. “Argh, I’m gonna kill, Becca.”

“Bucky?”

“No, Steve, not now, okay?” He just can’t think about the Blink 182 thing, it produces too much anxiety about things he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about with Steve, especially when they only have three hours before his gig. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I just want to go back to bed and kiss you,” he says, and pulls Steve towards the hallway, putting the contract out of his mind.

  

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve stays with Bucky for a few days. As far as Steve's concerned, it’s pretty awesome. Bucky’s place is mostly dark colors - red, black, with splashes of white. There’s a cozy-looking black couch and a large red Indonesian woven rug in the center of the room. There’s a medium-sized television next to a huge set of speakers and turntable by the sliding glass door, which leads to a tiny wooden patio. It’s all very cute.

Over the next few days, they make out, do a little grinding, watch movies, and go to karaoke. Steve always signs up to sing two songs, and Bucky is sure to sing at least one with him. While Steve still wears his baseball cap and shades, he’s becoming less and less concerned about being discovered, and even takes the shades off sometimes. After Bucky’s gigs are over, they tend to go back to Bucky’s place to sleep and then wake up in the afternoon to do it all over again.

Steve’s not pushing the sex thing. He's content with what they’re doing. They have really hot over the clothing make out sessions, but things always cool off considerably whenever Steve grazes anything underneath Bucky’s shirt. They’ve talked about it briefly, and Steve knows that Bucky’s not ready to take off his clothing and show his stump and whatever scarring is on his body,, and that's fine with Steve. Bucky's worth the wait.

The bliss comes to a crashing halt when Steve gets an urgent phone call from J.A.R.V.I.S. There’ some sort of situation in Derinkuyu, Turkey that requires Avenger intervention. Steve promises it will only be a couple of days, and he and Bucky part with apologies and a rushed kiss.

Then a couple of days turns into four.

They creep by too slowly. Steve wishes it was different, but at least he has memories of Bucky to keep him going, this time.

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky splits his time between checking the news and his phone, trying not to think about what’s going on with Steve but not thinking about anything else. Becca and Justin try their best to distract him, cracking jokes and manufacturing conversations about anything unrelated to the Avengers fight they know is going on with some subterranean supervillain called Mole Man. Bucky’s nightmares grows worse and he’s pretty sure he’s headed for a nervous breakdown.

Four days, eight hours, and twenty two minutes from the time Steve was called away, Bucky gets a phone call.

“Bucky?”

“Steve,” Bucky sighs in relief.

“Hey, I’m home. I missed you.”

“I missed you too."

“Sorry I couldn’t contact you. We had to go dark and cut all communication. I’m about to walk into a debriefing right now, but as soon as I get out, I’ll come see you.”

“How long will that take?”

“I dunno, another hour?”

“I’m coming to see you. I can be there within an hour.”

“Are you sure, Buck? I can come out to Brooklyn right after I’m done here.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says quickly. “I'd rather come there. It’ll give me something to do, plus I’m going a little stir crazy here.”

“Okay," Steve says, smile in his voice. "I’ll see you soon.”

Bucky dashes to his bedroom to make a small overnight bag. He’s grateful they don’t have a gig tonight. He can take the van and cut down on his commute time.

He arrives at the Tower close to noon. After he signs in and goes through the whole Stark Tower security routine, Bucky turns his back and waits for Steve to come down. Instead, some blonde guy wearing a purple shirt drops down right in front of him, straight out of the ceiling.

Bucky makes an embarrassing noise and reaches in his back pocket for his weapon, until he notices the receptionist in his periphery. She’s smiling, like what this guy did is perfectly normal.

“Hey, Bucky, right? Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you,” the blonde guy says in a way that doesn’t sound sorry at all. “We haven’t met, but I sorta checked you out the last time you visited Cap.”

Bucky’s eyes widen when he places him. “Hawkeye?”

“Clint, actually, but whatever, you can call me that too. Nice to meet you, man.” He extends his hand and Bucky shakes it, still a little rattled from the surprise drop.

Bucky frowns. “What do you mean you checked me out last time?”

Clint glances up at the ceiling. “Not really intentional, but I kinda hang out up there. Great view of everything.”

Bucky swallows, trying to recall if he did anything unwittingly goofy while Clint was watching.

“Anyway, I’ll take you up to see Steve,” Clint says.

“Uh, I think they already called him down,” Bucky says, gesturing towards the receptionist.

“They did, but then I called Steve and told him his boyfriend was here, and I got it,” Clint says conversationally as he begins to walk towards the elevators.

Bucky stops walking, wondering if he heard that right. “You called me his boyfriend?”

Clint turns, his eyebrow quirked. “Well yeah, that’s what you are, right?”

“Uh, I guess? Yeah,” Bucky says slowly. “And what did Steve say?”

Clint smiles. “He kinda sputtered a little, like you’re doing now, but eventually he said ‘bring him on up’.”

“Oh, okay,” Bucky says, trying to tamp down on his excitement despite the way _Steve’s my boyfriend_ keeps playing on loop in his head.

“So I hear you’re a karaoke DJ,” Clint says.

“Where’d you hear that? Steve?” Bucky asks.

“Nah, he's pretty private, but people talk,” he says with a easy smile. Like Natasha, it doesn’t quite touch his eyes when he does. Unlike Natasha though, there’s a laid-back vibe about this guy that feels personable. Bucky wonders if that’s a part of his charm or another type of weapon.

“Man, I used to dig karaoke,” Clint says with a wistful sigh. “Not the singing part." He gestures to the hearing aids in his ears. “I like watching.”

“That’s one of best parts about it.”

As they enter the elevator, Clint waves his hand over some sort of scanner and presses a button. The elevator closes and takes off.

“You know, I never would have pegged Cap as a karaoke guy,” Clint says. “But from what I hear, he’s totally gone on it.”

Bucky swallows at the twinkle in Clint’s eye and the way he’s biting back his smile like he knows something.

“Yeah, it can be pretty addictive,” Bucky says.

They exit the elevator and walk to Steve’s door, waiting. “Whatever it’s doing for him has to be good. He smiles a lot more now.”

Bucky tries not to blush, but he doesn’t think that’s working out so well because Clint chuckles like he’s just seen the most adorable thing. When the doors finally slide open, Bucky is pretty sure his face is red.

“Bucky!” Steve says with this huge dorky smile that Bucky just wants to kiss off. “Thanks, Clint.”

Clint tries to peek past Steve into his quarters. “Whoa, it’s really bright in there. Did you decorate, Cap?”

“Uh, yeah. Listen, Clint, thanks for bringing Bucky up, I really appreciate it.”

The smile Clint gives is easy and light, but not enough to chase away the shadow of disappointment at not being allowed in Steve’s place. “No prob, Cap. Bucky, hope to see you around more.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Good. And make sure Cap here gets his karaoke fix.”

“Okay, Clint, I’ll see you later,” Steve says.

Clint gives both of them a wave as Bucky steps inside.

“Sorry about that,” Steve says. “He sort of intercepted me once I got the call.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said. It’s cool. He seems like a really nice guy.”

“He is.”

“He’s never been in your place before?”

Steve’s eyes fall and he shifts on his feet. “Um, not really?”

Their eyes lock and Steve swallows, looking like he wants to move closer but something’s holding him back.

“Well, are you just gonna stand there and look at me all night, or do I get a kiss?” Bucky asks.

A bright smile breaks over Steve’s face and he reaches out to snake his hand around Bucky’s waist. He pulls Bucky flush against his large firm body. Bucky exhales, reveling in the feeling of being engulfed in Steve’s huge arms and pressed against his hard chest. It’s been days. He's been craving this. They spend the next few minutes kissing hello, still in the doorway.

“You look tired,” Steve says when they finally break apart. “Incredibly adorable too, but tired.”

“I am. Waiting to hear from you kinda puts a wrench in my beauty sleep.”

Steve presses his forehead to Bucky’s and sighs. “I’m so sorry. I really hate putting you through that. I wish I could say it’ll never happen again, but--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You warned me. One of the downsides of dating Captain America.”

Steve’s smile is tentative, slightly nervous. Bucky kisses him hard and long to vanquish any insecurities or doubts he may be having. “I can handle it,” he whispers when he pulls back.

Steve clasps Bucky’s fingers into his and leads him into the living room, where there’s popcorn and drinks set up on the coffee table, and two fluffy matching Thor and Hulk fleece blankets spread out on the couch. A weird flutter passes through Bucky’s stomach.

“Aww, Stevie, you got everything ready for us,” Bucky gushes.

Steve bites Bucky’s earlobe.

Turning his head quickly, Bucky steals another kiss. “I missed you too.”

They plop down onto the sofa and Steve sets up the Netflix and lies on his back. Bucky is about to climb on top of him when he remembers he should check in. He shoots a group text to Becca and Justin. He’s arranging himself on top of Steve when his phone buzzes just a minute later. When he reads what it says, he quietly groans.

“What is it?” Steve asks.

Bucky shows Steve the message.

“Your sister wants my number?” Steve asks with a smile. “A little overprotective, isn’t she?”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Touche. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“You don’t have to, Steve."

“But I want to,” Steve insists. “Please, Buck, give it to her.”

With a little huff, Bucky texts Steve’s digits to Becca and Justin and then tells them in crude terms that they better not ever call or text Steve unless it’s an emergency.

He knows he fucked up when Steve’s phone buzzes on the coffee table moments after the text is sent.

“Oh god,” Bucky whispers.

Steve picks up the phone and reads it. “Huh.”

“What? What does it say?” Bucky demands.

Steve pockets the phone in his sweatpants. “Nothing. Come here, you.”

Bucky narrows his eyes suspiciously, but Steve’s arms look warm and inviting, and he really is tired. He slides forward and lays down on the sexiest firm warm human pillow in the world. It doesn’t take long before he’s nodding off.

When he comes to, Steve is watching him and stroking his hair.

“Did you watch any of the Star Treks, or have you just been looking at me the whole time?”

“Can’t I do both?”

Bucky snorts. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah a dork you like kissing."

“Okay, you got me.” Bucky leans up to meet Steve for another kiss. A thrill shoots through him when he feels Steve’s dick harden beneath him. Steve hums against Bucky’s mouth and Bucky starts to move his hips in tight little circles, enjoying the way Steve feels against his own erection. Bucky slides his tongue deeper into Steve’s hot wet mouth and there’s another spike of arousal when Steve cups the back of his head to hold his head in place and Bucky’s mind goes blank. He wants more, so much more.

Their kissing grows dirtier, reaching a fevered pitch that has Bucky practically rutting against Steve’s dick. Steve’s hand moves from the back of Bucky’s head to his neck and down his back, but when Bucky feels nimble fingers touching the exposed skin beneath his t-shirt, he eases back and cools things down. He withdraws his tongue and nibbles on Steve’s lips a little before giving him a decidedly unsexy peck on the cheek.

He hates the confusion and concern reflected on Steve’s face. “You okay?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Just not ready for that yet. Um, I haven’t...since I came back,” he says, avoiding Steve’s eyes. What he can’t tell Steve is that he’s afraid the sight of his naked disfigurement will kill Steve’s interest.

“That’s fine,” Steve says, stroking Bucky’s cheek. “You set the pace.”

Bucky exhales and just lays his head back down on Steve’s chest, staring at the ‘Coming Up Next’ Netflix screen on Steve’s TV.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Your sister said I should ask you about Blink 182. What’s that?”

Bucky closes his eyes, like he wants to ignore the question.

“Bucky…”

“Argh. Freakin’ Becca and her big mouth. Blink 182 is a band,” Bucky sighs, propping up his chin to talk. “They’re throwing a karaoke party in Brooklyn for Memorial Day.”

“That’s great. So next month then? I take it you’re the main star?”

Bucky laughs. “No way. I’d be like the least famous person there, but apparently they still want me to DJ for them. It’s supposed to be big celebrity charity thing. They’re raising money for wounded veterans.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

Bucky blows out a hard breath. “Yeah, it is. It’s just… Becca’s been riding my ass about doing it.”

He can feel himself pouting. Steve seems to think it’s flattering or something because he raises his hand to cup Bucky’s cheek.

“Why wouldn’t you want to do it?”

“‘Cause I already missed the deadline for signing the contract. It was a couple of weeks ago, but….”

“But?” Steve nudges.

Bucky’s eyes drop. “The venue is big. There’s like three different dance spaces, so they want three DJs. They already hired the other two. For some reason the organizers are holding a spot for me, in case I change my mind.”

“That’s fantastic, Bucky!” Bucky gives a small shrug and gnaws at his bottom lip. “I dunno, Steve. It’d be different if it was about my skills as DJ, but…. I’m not a fucking charity case.”

“But the money isn’t for you."

Bucky feels his frustration growing. “Yeah, but they wanna use me to raise sympathy. Like I’m gonna be the poster boy for injured veterans. I care about the cause, sure, but I didn’t get into karaoke for this kind of publicity or attention. For fuck’s sake, it’s karaoke, Steve! People aren’t supposed to earn a name off of it. I don’t really want this celebrity thing to mess up the one thing I really enjoy. And I just….” His eyes fall.

“What?” Steve asks gently.

“I don’t want people looking at me like I’m some kind of circus freak."

“Bucky, look at me, please,” Steve asks so gently. Bucky feels compelled to pull up his eyes. “I told you this before, but you’re not a circus act. People like you because you’re really good at what you do.”

Bucky scoffs. “Oh yeah, and the charity just so happens to be for injured veterans? Come on, Steve. You can’t be this naive.”

“I’m not. Look, you’re partially right, there’s obviously a tie-in with your background, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only or most important reason they want you to DJ.”

It sounds good, but Bucky isn’t quite convinced. That must reflect on his face because Steve gets that determined set to his jaw like he’s gearing up for a big speech. It’s kinda adorable and infuriating. “Bucky, listen to me. You’re amazing up there. You make people forget about their problems. You make people laugh and want to dance. And when you’re behind them cheering, you make them feel like they're the center of the universe.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“It’s true,” Steve insists. “It’s because of you I have a new hobby, a real life outside of fighting.”

Bucky’s eyes go sharp as he combs Steve’s face for any hint of exaggeration. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

Bucky chews on that. Steve must really believe in what Bucky’s doing, and if he made a difference to Captain America, of all people...

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky finally replies.

Steve looks skeptical.

“I’m promise,” Bucky says. “Can we get back to kissing now?”

Steve laughs and turns off the TV as his other hand pulls him down. “Definitely.”

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Between Bucky’s gigs and Steve’s Avengers missions, over the next few weeks they develop a rhythm of alternating clandestine visits. Steve always travels by motorcycle and arrives at Bucky’s place in the wee hours of morning, wearing his nondescript baseball cap and shades. Bucky usually visits the Tower close to the morning rush, when everyone around the Tower is caught up in the hustle and bustle of going to work.

Becca and Justin appear to become more comfortable with Steve’s presence, in turn Steve feels himself relaxing more around them. He enjoys their brash banter and all of the teasing. It makes him feel more like a real person and less of a symbol. Occasionally, Becca will ask when they can expect the news of Bucky and Steve’s relationship to break in the press. Steve knows his response of ‘soon’ is becoming tired, but each new mission reminds him of how Bucky could be used or hurt. Still, he puts out a few feelers to Maria and Pepper about how he should approach having a relationship with a civilian. Both women make it clear they have his back and will do everything in their power to help.

It’s reassuring, especially since Bucky doesn’t seem as concerned with the public outing. He maintains his only concern is that they spend real time together. So that’s what they do, every chance they get.

One afternoon, Steve returns from a lunchtime stroll around Bed-Stuy with two coffees from Sumner Cafe to hear Bucky shouting. Steve runs back to Bucky’s bedroom. “Bucky! Bucky...hey, it’s me Steve. Bucky, you’re safe. You’re in Brooklyn with me.” Steve has grown familiar with Bucky’s PTSD, but he’s not sure he'll ever get used to the naked look of anguish and fear when Bucky’s fighting to escape his nightmares.

There’s less embarrassment on Bucky’s face these days, and more frustration and weariness. "Steve?"

“Do you know where you are?”

Bucky blinks at him. “Heaven.”

Steve frowns. That’s never happened before. “Bucky?”

A slow smile spreads over Bucky’s face. “I mean with a face like that, you must be an angel.”

Steve huffs. “Jerk.”

“Aww, Stevie, don’t be like that. You know how fragile I am after my nightmares.” Bucky bats his eyes. It’s really cute, but Steve can still see the stress of the nightmare showing in the shadows beneath his eyes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, like he’s still trying to catch his breath.

Steve folds himself over Bucky, careful not to completely rest too much of his weight on Bucky as his breathing continues to come back down.

“You wanna talk about it?” Steve whispers.

Bucky remains silent for several moments. "No."

"Okay."

“So you really never tried karaoke before you met me?” Bucky asks, as if they were talking about the weather.

Steve closes his eyes and just goes with it. “Never. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but..”

“Not even in one of the local speakeasies before the war?”

Steve pulls back and looks down at Bucky’s curious eyes. “I don't think they had karaoke before the war.”

“Yeah they did,” Bucky says. “It started in France in the 1930’s. I’m sure they had a few around Brooklyn too.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, impressed, and wipes Bucky’s sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead.

Bucky raises his nose a little like a proud peacock. “I know things, Stevie. You’re dealing with well read man.”

“So I see,” Steve smiles. “But, to answer your question, no. This little thing called the second world war got in the way.”

Bucky points at Steve like he finally caught him. “But you did start out singing and dancing with the USO. I’ve seen the footage.”

“I never sang! The women around me did,” Steve insists.

“Ah-ha! So you were jealous then? Is that it?”

Steve tries to contain a warning growl, but a little of it gets out.

Bucky laughs right in his face. “You’re so cute when you get all worked up.”

Steve really does growl then and falls back down, tucking his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck. He breathes in deep, inhaling the last musky remnants of Bucky’s nightmare. He feels Bucky’s hand trailing up his back and burrows in deeper, pressing his lips to Bucky’s tender wet skin.

Bucky hums. “So okay, you didn’t sing. What did you do for fun then?”

The question rankles. It makes Steve think of the press and all of the editorials about his non-existent personal life. “Sorry, I know you hate that question," Bucky says. "I’m just curious about what you got up to when you weren’t fighting in the war.”

Steve really pulls back then and props himself up to look down at Bucky. He looks a little better. It does wonders for Steve’s disposition. He feels useful and protective and he wants to do anything he can to keep Bucky feeling better.

“Well, if you must know,” Steve says with exaggerated exasperation, “the Howlies used to drag me to whatever bar they could find. So I suppose drinking was our hobby. And I may have also dabbled in some art.”

“Like the stuff in your living room?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky smiles.

“What about you?" Steve asks. "What did you and your team get up to when you weren’t fighting, during the war?”

He’s pleasantly surprised when Bucky’s face lights up. “Karaoke.”

“No way,” Steve says, a laugh escaping him.

“Yep. There weren’t many bars, but we’d sing in every single one we found. And when there were no bars, we’d sing among ourselves. That was my team’s thing.”

“Wow,” Steve says, trying to picture the members of the Avengers doing something similar. He really couldn’t.

“Singing passed the time when we were out there just waiting, you know?”

Steve nods as memories pass through his head. Sitting with Dum Dum and Gabe in deep brush for days, waiting in an abandoned farmhouse with Jacques and Jim.

“Sometimes we’d just be out there for days, waiting for something,” Bucky says quietly. “Being a sniper, I couldn’t give away my position. But staying still that long, without making a sound can drive you crazy. Everything you hear starts to sound like-- ”

“A threat,” Steve says.

Bucky nods. “But I figured out a way to stay sane - music. There was always a song playing in my head,” he says, tapping his temple.

“Did you have a favorite song for when you were out there?” Steve asks.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Steve says, reaching down to tickle Bucky under his right arm.

Bucky gasps and coughs out a laugh. “Okay, alright. It was usually something stupid and cheesy. Like a love song. Actually, they were all love songs.”

Steve smiles at the blush on Bucky’s face. “And you call me a sap? Sounds like karaoke means a lot to you.”

Bucky studies a spot on Steve’s chest. “Yeah, it does. After…. the incident… it was kinda hard coming back here. Everything was the same but nothing really was.”

His words strike Steve like a lightning bolt.

“Honestly, karaoke was the only thing that felt comfortable for awhile there,” Bucky confesses.”I can lose myself in it. Forget about everything else.”

“That’s why I like it too,” Steve whispers.

“I know,” Bucky says fondly.

Steve leans, forecasting his intention, and Bucky lifts his head to meet Steve’s lips. The kiss is soft and tender, and Steve swears he tastes Bucky’s appreciation, care, and maybe something they’re both feeling and not ready to name.

Despite the unnerving start to the afternoon, Steve has a feeling it’s going to be a great day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> "I've Got You Under My Skin" was a song written by Cole Porter and performed by Frank Sinatra, among many others.


	11. Brooklyn, Baby

After a month of visiting each other, the Tower’s receptionists now greet Bucky by name, and the security guys do an obligatory scan but aren’t nearly as suspicious or thorough.

Now when Bucky goes through the lobby, he expects either Steve to come down or either Sam, Natasha, or Clint to intercept. What he’s not prepared for is Tony Stark walking up to the front desk.

Stark yanks off his glasses, squints his eyes at Bucky and extends his hand. “James Barnes, right? Or as the team calls you, Bucky. Nice to meet you. I don’t think we’ve met yet, I’m Tony Stark. And wow, you really do only have one arm. Not a fan of prosthetics?”

“Ah… no, not really,” Bucky says, shaking his hand. He's completely baffled at Stark’s introduction and bluntness. “I mean, I’m still thinking about it.”

Tony gives him a quick smile. “You should. The field of biokinetics is producing some really cool stuff right now."

Bucky sort of nods, unsure of how to respond. He really doesn’t want to talk or even think about his arm in front of a stranger.

“Anyway,” Tony says, motioning for him to follow. Bucky complies. “Cap’s been keeping you pretty close to the vest, but a little birdie told me you’ve already met most of the team.”

“Yeah. I suppose I have.”

Tony turns with a little smirk. “You, ah, own a karaoke company, right? Shining Star?”

Bucky assumes that’s rhetorical. Stark continues without taking a breath.

“You guys do events all over the city. The _Times_ rates you as top notch. I’ve never considered karaoke for a party, but I’m open to it.”

They barely reach the doors of the elevator when it opens without Stark doing anything to prompt it. That never happens with the others. In the weeks since he’s started seeing Steve, Bucky has grown used to Sam’s easy banter and teasing, Clint’s raunchy and offbeat humor, and Natasha’s sly non-questioning way of probing. He has no idea what to expect from Tony Stark. The only things Bucky knows about Stark is that he’s ridiculously rich, he’s Iron Man, and sometimes Steve frowns when his name is mentioned.

They board the elevator. The doors close. Stark turns to him and cocks his head. “You’re special forces right? Green Berets, Weapons Sergeant and sniper? Your last mission was Afghanistan?”

“Are you asking or telling me? Because it sounds like you already know everything.”

It comes out more snippily than Bucky intended, but something about Stark is pushing every one of his buttons. Tony offers a placating smile that somehow radiates condescension. “You’ll have to forgive me, but a former special forces sniper just shows up out of nowhere and sweeps Cap off of his feet by playing background music so he can sing crappy cover songs. Surely you understand why I had you checked out.”

“Surely,” Bucky says with a fake smile.

“Anyway, now that I’ve met you,” Tony says, giving Bucky a full body perusal. “I can see the attraction. You’ve got that tall, dark, tortured thing going on, which is pretty much Cap’s general disposition.”

The elevator stops and Bucky exhales in relief. The sooner he can get away from Stark, the better.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., hold the elevator for a moment please,” Stark says, moving in within an inch of Bucky’s face.

Bucky goes still, clenching his fist.

“I probably don’t have to tell you that I have considerable resources to find and destroy anyone who hurts my friends," Tony says. "I get the feeling you’re smart and you’ve already put that together. And by all accounts, you seem like a decent guy. The team likes you, and Cap certainly does. So just make sure you do right by him and everything will be fine. He’s been through a lot.”

Bucky can’t quite believe he’s getting a shovel talk from Tony Stark. He doesn’t know whether to snark or feel honored. One thing’s for certain, though: no matter what differences Steve may have with the guy, Stark obviously cares about him. That truth alone has Bucky backing down.

He nods to acknowledge Stark’s statement. Stark stares at him for a moment and then turns. “Okay, J.A.R.V.I.S., all done here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The doors open and Tony bids Bucky to pass by extending his hand. Bucky tries not to scowl as he steps off. Tony barely steps out when Steve opens the door, his blue eyes cloudy with concern as he glances between Bucky and Tony.

“Cap, brought you a present,” Tony says.

Steve’s eyes dart to Bucky. “Uh yeah, the receptionist said you’d be bringing Buck up. Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem. Had to make sure I got a good look at the guy who’s stolen your heart.”

Steve flushes beet red and forces a smile. “Come on in, Bucky.”

Bucky gives Steve a brief peck on the lips before quickly moving past him and away from Stark.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Stark says before Steve can close the door. Bucky looks back and sees Stark peeking past Steve’s shoulder, just like Clint has done a few times before.

“Tony,” Steve says in warning.

“What? Can a guy visit his teammate, buddy, dear old friend who just so happens to also have an entire floor in his building?”

Steve drops his head and sighs and then kicks open the door.

“Thank you!” Stark says, giving Bucky a little smirk before his eyes take in the living room.

“Wow! This is…” Tony turns around and looks at Steve like he’s a complete stranger who broke into Steve Rogers' apartment.

“I love it,” he says, stretching out his arms as if he’s stumbled upon treasure.

Bucky glances to Steve, who’s holding himself stiff, and moves closer to his side. Steve tries to put on a smile for Bucky, but it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable. Bucky’s not sure if it’s because of Stark or that someone else is inside Steve’s apartment.

Stark has already moved across the room. He stands in front of the graffitti-decorated brick of Steve’s mother in a field of flowers.

“So who’s your decorator? Because this is fantastic! Give me the name and I’ll make sure Pepper hires them. They can redo the entire building. Well, at least the recreational parts.” He rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “For the sake of business appearances, we have to maintain the whole corporate chic look.”

"He's not for hire."

“That’s all Steve,” Bucky blurts out, pride overriding his common sense.

Tony’s eyes go wide. He just gapes at Steve for a moment, and then he does something odd. He turns towards the expansive wall-length windows, where there’s a view of Central Park.

Steve and Bucky watch his back warily, waiting for him to turn around and say something. Steve has a guilty look on his face like he got caught stealing and Bucky grows more curious as the silence continues.

Finally Tony turns back with a smile plastered on his face. Bucky doesn’t know the guy, but his eyes look a little different. Dimmer perhaps.

“Boy, Steve, you’re full of surprises. Any other hidden interests or hobbies we don’t know about?”

Steve glances to Bucky and gives a tiny shrug. “Well, I really like Star Trek.”

“Star Trek?” Tony asks incredulously.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Anything else you absolutely need to know right at this moment?”

Tony huffs. “Actually, yeah, I do have a question.”

Steve clutches his fists.

“Why is this is the first time I’ve been here since you moved in?” Tony asks. “I mean, I get it, you want privacy and I tried to accommodate that by adjusting J.A.R.V.I.S. for your place, but...”

Stark puts his hands on his hips like a frustrated mother. It’s almost funny except that Bucky can tell the guy's really struggling to talk. That must be very hard for him, considering what Bucky’s learned about Stark in the last ten minutes.

“Honestly, Cap," Tony says, "you hurt my feelings.”

“It’s not personal, Tony,” Steve says in an apologetic tone. His face is twisting up like he really doesn’t want to talk about this. “I wasn’t trying to keep you or anyone else out, it’s just…”

Bucky and Tony both stare at Steve, waiting.

Steve’s shoulders fall like he’s tired. “Okay, so maybe I was.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, surprised at the admission.

“Any particularly reason why you feel more comfortable with the one-armed karaoke bandit here, and not your teammates?”

Bucky shoots a scowl Tony’s way. The man looks absolutely delighted about it, which is annoying as hell.

“I don’t really have an answer for that, Tony,” Steve sighs.

“I see. Well, can you think about that for me? I’ll check in later,” Tony says. “Let me get out of your hair, and leave you two lovebirds to….karaoke? That’s an euphemism by the way. Unless you do engage in karaoke as some sort of weird foreplay, which I’m totally not judging if you do. You know if you want I can totally have a custom designed karaoke studio put in here. Probably just need knock that wall out over there and--”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve interrupts, trying to corral Tony towards the door. “I’ll see you later. Maybe...we could do lunch or something."

Tony snorts as the doors open and he steps out. “Yeah okay, Cap. That would be interesting, but I’m on board whenever you’re ready. Bucky, Buck, Buckster, nice meeting you.”

“Okay,” Bucky says. Anything else would be dishonest.

The doors finally close. Steve lets out a long sigh.

“Well _that_ was interesting,” Bucky says.

“ _That_ was Tony.” Steve sounds exasperated.

Bucky comes up from behind to wrap his arm around Steve’s waist and rubs his nose into Steve’s broad back.

Steve turns around slowly until they’re pressed chest to chest. “You think I’m a dick now, don’t you?”

As Bucky gazes into Steve’s eyes, he can see open concern and self-consciousness. “No,” Bucky says cautiously. “But I do think maybe you should introduce your teammates to Steve Rogers. He’s a pretty cool guy. I think they’d like him a lot. I know I do.”

A light pink tint colors Steve’s cheeks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, reaching up to trace the line of Steve’s strong jaw.

“But what if...they don’t? What if meeting Steve Rogers makes them see Captain America differently?”

Bucky’s heart clenches as he takes in the doubt on Steve’s face. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but that Captain America guy is a total badass. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, who’s seen him in action is gonna second-guess him.”

The tentative smile on Steve’s face grows a little wider. He moves swiftly and lifts Bucky clean off the ground, hands cupping against his butt. Bucky lets out a surprised gasp and crosses his legs around that trim waist as Steve walks them down the hallway towards the bedroom.

“Mmm, so you like it when I gush about Captain America,” Bucky teases, love the friction of his erection against the ridges of Steve’s steel-cut abs. “Did I tell you how much I love his fighting style? It’s so hot the way he throws that shield around. Always fantasized about him tossing me around in bed.”

“You are a menace,” Steve growls.

“Yeah but you like it, don’t you….Cap,” Bucky says in a low husky voice, tightening his legs.

Steve has hungry look in his eyes that Bucky’s never seen before -- and he wants to feed him. He dives in for a filthy kiss. With Steve’s tongue nearly down his throat and his hands palming his ass, Bucky doubles down and grinds like he’s chasing an orgasm. The hard line of Steve’s erection moving against his own is driving him a little crazy. It’s been weeks of touching, kissing, and dry humping, and it’s getting frustrating.

“Steve…”

“Yeah?”

“Bedroom…”

“K,” Steve breathes as he kicks the door and it slams against the wall hard. Bucky holds on as Steve navigates them to the bed.

Carefully, he lays Bucky down on his back, then moves his hot lips from Bucky’s mouth down to his neck while keeping his hands on either side of Bucky’s head. The words ‘please touch me’ almost escape Bucky’s mouth. He wants to feel Steve’s hands all over him, but that would require taking off his clothes. And they’ve been here before. Steve’s hands are like magic, but they can’t make Bucky’s scars disappear or his stump less unsightly.

“Fuck!” Bucky grits out, squeezing his eyes shut against the heating building behind his eyes.

Steve’s mouth on his neck turns soft and chaste as he stops pushing his body against Bucky’s. Then he just stops. “You alright?”

Bucky drapes his arm over his face and holds his tongue, afraid that his voice will give him away.

“Bucky, there’s no rush. Okay? I’m just happy you’re here. This is enough for me.”

“Yeah well, I want more. I want _you._ ”

Bucky knows he sounds childish. He feels the bed move as Steve shifts off of him and cuddles his left side.

“How is it that my left arm is missing but still manages to cock-block me?“

There’s no reply or snicker. When Bucky pulls his arm down, Steve is looking at him with a strange expression.

“It’s a joke, Steve,” he says in exasperation.

"I know, but….when you say your arm is cockblocking you. What's the issue? You know I don't mind. I think you’re beautiful, Buck. Nothing’s gonna change that."

Bucky huffs and looks back up at the ceiling. “I know. But there’s a difference though between knowing it in my head and the way I feel about myself when we get into it. I just… I don’t feel attractive sometimes.”

The sadness in Steve’s face is really too much, but when Steve starts caressing his face, tracing his fingertips over Bucky’s cheekbones and lips, something settles inside of Bucky. He looks up at those earnest blue eyes filled with so much emotion and feels hope that maybe they can get past this soon.

Steve traces his finger over Bucky’s lips, and Bucky opens his mouth and nips his fingertip.

“Ouch, you jerk,” Steve says with false irritation that’s ruined by the fondness in his expression.

Bucky raises his hand to hold Steve’s palm to his mouth to press a soft kiss into it.

 

  

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

It’s nearly 2pm when Bucky nudges Steve from his slumber on the couch.

“Steve…. Steve.”

Steve yawns and rubs his eyes. “Yeah Bucky?”

“Becca just texted. There’s a block party in Brooklyn, wanna go? She says she and Justin can meet us there. What do you think?”

Steve rises slowly, all his previous worries flooding back. Spending time here with Bucky in his private quarters always feels like a dream, and now with the thought of going out it’s slowly fading. But he owes Bucky something more than clandestine nights spent in disguise at Bucky's karaoke gigs, and if not this...

"Sure," Steve says nervously, and Bucky smiles at him.

"It's gonna be fine," he says, getting to his feet.

By the time Steve's ready to go, Bucky's been ready for a while and is standing by the door with his phone in his hand.

Bucky mouth turns down as Steve stares at him, feeling terrified. “You want to grab your hat and shades, don’t you?”

Steve swallows. “No, I told your sister I’d take you out. This isn’t the first date I’d had in mind, but if you really wanna….”

“I do.” Bucky is nearly bouncing on his feet with anticipation.

“Okay,” Steve sighs. “Okay.”

"We should leave now, if we want to meet them there. We still have a gig to do tonight.” 

In minutes, Steve's left the safety of his apartment behind, the comfort of his hat and sunglasses no longer at his disposal. As they wait for the elevator, Steve finds himself tapping his hand anxiously against his leg.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., car garage,” Steve says once inside.

“Yes, Captain,” the A.I. replies.

Bucky gawks at the ceiling. “I don’t think I'll ever get used to that,” he murmurs.

“It’s not up there, believe me. I tried to find him when I first moved in. J.A.R.V.I.S. is everywhere, and nowhere.”

Bucky shakes his head “That is creepy as fuck, but also really cool.”

Steve smiles at him fondly.

“Hold up,” Bucky says, looking up again. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Um, can you please cancel Steve’s last command. We’re taking the subway.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Bucky’s hand is suddenly covering Steve's heart and pressing into his chest. The warm, heavy feel of it makes Steve relax. There’s a question in Bucky’s eyes as he looks up at him.

Steve simply nods. “Okay, yeah. Subway.”

Leaving the bubble of the Tower with Bucky by his side without any disguise is frankly more terrifying than aliens. Steve’s previous anxiety about him and Bucky being bombarded with stares and questions returns tenfold. Bucky seems to sense it and grabs Steve’s hand as they start walking. Steve maintains hypervigilance, scanning every face coming their way, waiting for a ‘that’s Captain America!’ or ‘who’s that guy walking with him?’ But it never comes. A few people slow down and do a double take, but most are focused on their phones, their conversations, or their destination as they move around Steve and Bucky like they do everyone else. It’s incredibly liberating. When he glances to his right, he catches Bucky smirking.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters as he tries to fight his smile.

Bucky gives his hand a squeeze. Steve squeezes back and slows his steps as he begins to look around. The sidewalk is crowded with business people, dog walkers, and mothers and nannies pushing strollers. And there’s so much sound. People talking on their cell phones, children crying, irreverent taxi drivers honking at pedestrians crossing the street, and pedestrian yelling back obscenities. And none of them are looking at them.

“We’re taking the Number 4 train and transferring to the A train,” Bucky says. “That’s our station coming up on the right.”

The descend the stairs to the train station, and the smell of garbage and piss slaps Steve in the face. “Ugh.”

“I know right? The smell of the New York’s underbelly.” Bucky takes a big whiff. “Ah! I love it!”

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

They exit the A train and emerge at the corner of Nevine St and Flatbush Avenue. The subway ride had been instructive, and a little intimate; there'd been barely any room and so he and Bucky had to huddle in a corner, Bucky teasing him about how long it's been since he's been on one of these the whole way there. Now, as they approach the fair, a host of smells and sounds assault their senses. It’s like Coney Island, only way more diverse. There’s vendors lined on both sides of the streets, and a ‘Do Not Enter’ blockade guarded by cops at the opening of the block.

“Here were are - street festival!” Bucky says it like an excited kid at his first parade. He pulls out his phone and swipes it while Steve tries to take everything in.

The sound of a troupe of drummers rises above the chatter of the crowd. Bucky grabs Steve’s hand to pull him the direction of the music.

“Becca and Justin are gonna meet us two blocks up in about ten minutes,” Bucky says.

Steve nods and tries not to trip as all of the smells from old Coney Island- hot dogs, sausages, popcorn, and cotton candy- conjure up some of his favorite childhood memories. There’s also the new and unfamiliar, like a sign that says henna that hangs above a woman painting on a young girl and a Psychic Reading and crystal healing booth. Steve peruses the table of different colored crystals and listens to the vendor explain their various healing properties.

She offers Steve a five minute cleanse. Bucky gives him an amused glance and asks the woman how much. Steve shakes his head, but then Bucky’s pushing a bill in her hands and she comes from around the table and tells Steve to sit down in the reclined healing chair next to the table. She has kind eyes like his mother, and she looks to be around the same age as when Steve's mother died. Even though Steve doesn’t believe in any of this stuff, he plays along and takes a seat.

When she tells him to close his eyes, Steve shoots Bucky an ‘I’m going to get you’ glare before doing as he’s told. Steve doesn’t completely close his eyes, but does let them droop a little until the woman is finished waving her crystal over his body.

“All done,” she says.

Slowly, Steve stands to his feet. Oddly, he feels a bit lighter. He gazes at the crystal healer and wonders if she’s some sort of witch. She just gives him a smile and knowing nod.

“That was weird,” Steve mutters.

“You really got into it,” Bucky teases.

Steve’s about to deny it when he hears someone calling Bucky’s name.

Walking towards them are Becca and Justin. Becca has her long dark hair in up in messy bun and she’s wearing a red sundress and a dark denim jean jacket. Justin’s shaggy red hair has been trimmed, and he’s wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and faded denims.

They’re holding hands.

“Holy shit!” Bucky exclaims.

“Is that new?” Steve asks.

“Um, yeah, gotta be.”

Steve takes in the deep crease of Bucky's brow and his worried eyes. “Do you have a problem with Justin dating your sister?”

“What? No.” Bucky glances at Steve. “I’m…I’m happy for them. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I’m just worried about what happens if they don’t work out. It’ll mess up everything.”

“Wow, that’s a cheerful thought."

Bucky huffs. “I’m serious. My best friend and my sister. My business partners! I don’t wanna deal with the fallout.”

“And what are you always telling me? Stop thinking about the worst case scenario. Hope for the best. Any of that ring a bell?" Steve smiles as Bucky balks at him in betrayal. "Besides, they both care about you. Even if it doesn’t work out, neither one of them is going to just up and disappear.”

Bucky’s face evens out. “You’re right. Maybe I'm being a little selfish.”

Steve holds up his index finger and thumb. “Just a little.”

“Shaddup...Okay, I can handle this. This is good.”

“It is,” Steve agrees. “Heads up. They’re here.”

Bucky turns around and Becca’s face lights up. She stretches her arms wide and he embraces her tightly, lifting her up from the ground while Steve and Justin look on.

“Put me down, Bucky,” she exclaims, hitting his arm lightly.

Steve’s never seen Bucky greet his sister like this. Maybe it's his way of expressing acceptance.

Bucky grins and does as he’s told and then pulls Justin in with a tight hug. Justin looks a little surprised and there’s a blush on his cheeks as he glances nervously from Bucky to Becca, like he’s just been caught committing a crime.

“Got something to tell me?” Bucky says looking between them.

Becca clasps Justin’s hand. “Um, well, remember how you’re always giving us shit about flirting? Well…” She looks to Justin, who is looking a little green. “Now we’re sorta flirting officially...”

Bucky raises his eyebrows as Justin winces.

“This is totally your fault, bro,” Justin rushes to say. “I never, _ever_ , would have even thought about dating your sister if you hadn’t been so relentless about pointing out our chemistry.”

“Bullshit!” Bucky says, “You’ve been eyeing my sister since we got home.”

Justin goes beet red, while Becca gasps. “Bucky!”

Bucky tries to look upset for a few seconds before he starts laughing. “Dude, I’m happy for you!”

Justin exhales, “Asshole.”

Becca rolls her eyes, but she looks just as relieved.

Steve watches as Bucky smiles at both of them, a tender expression on his face. “Seriously, this is about surprising as learning water is wet.”

They all laugh and there’s a comfort between all of them that strikes Steve as both amazing and completely normal in a way he rarely gets to experience.

“Steve, you’re out in public. Without a hat,” Becca says.

“Or your sunglasses,” Justin adds.

Steve puts his arm around Bucky and pulls him closer. “Yes, I am.”

“Its nice to see you out,” Becca says in approval.

“It’s nice to be out,” Steve says and really means it.

“You guys want to just walk around?” Becca asks.

They all shrug and begin walking. They pass two tents when Becca’s eyes go wide. “Oh, Bucky! There’s a face painting booth!”

“Becca, that’s for kids,” Bucky complains.

“Then you definitely need to be over there,” she teases, sticking out her tongue.

“Who’s the kid again?” Bucky asks and Justin points at the both of them.

Steve laughs. This feels good, and like something he definitely can get used to.

They walk over to the face painting booth, looking at each other like, ‘do we really wanna do this?’

“Come on guys, sit down,” a college-aged woman encourages, grinning up at them. Two more high school-aged girls join her. When the older girl’s eyes land on Steve, she gasps.

“Are you Captain America?”

The other two girls’ eyes go wide. “No way, that’s not him,” one of the girls says.

They all lean in closer to study Steve’s face as he swallows and looks around, but the crowd walks on around them.

Bucky puts a single finger up to his mouth, silently asking them to keep their secret. They all look between each other then back up at Steve and Bucky to nod their agreement.

There’s a sheepish forced smile on Bucky’s face that looks an awfully like an apology, but Steve's having a great time. At least they aren’t pushing camera phones in his face or asking invasive questions.

“You all wanna paint me a new mask?” Steve asks.

They all get huge smiles and wave him over to sit down. Bucky, Becca, and Justin all stand in front of Steve in a protective circle and watch the young ladies get to work. One of the younger girls adds a yellow dandelion that Becca suggests.

“Gee, that’s very subtle,” Steve says sarcastically.

“Oh shaddup, Steve,” Becca says. “You’re gonna look so pretty after this.”

“He's already pretty,” Bucky says. “Now he's going to be prettier.”

The young ladies beam and put on the finishing touches, and direct Steve to look in the mirror.

Steve grins at his reflection while Bucky, Becca, and Justin gush over it in the background. Painted on his face is a bouquet of flowers. He has a purple flower around his eye, there are blue, green, and yellow flowers on his forehead. But his favorite is the red one decorating his right cheek. Its stem extends from the base of the drawing down to his chin and wraps around his jaw like his cowl usually does. It’ll probably draw more attention than conceal his identity, but Steve’s beginning not to care.

“I love it,” Steve says, turning to the young ladies and pulling out his wallet. He gives each of them five dollars, even though the face painting was only supposed to be $2.

“Oh wow, thank you Cap- uh Mr. Rogers,” the older girl says, her eyes darting to Bucky who nods in approval at her correction.

“Thank you!” Steve says. “Now can you please do my friends.”

“Matching flowers?” one of the girls asks.

“Oh yeah,” Steve grins. “Matching flowers.”

They walk around for almost an hour, checking out each vendor. A few people seem to notice Steve, but none of them hassle him. They just gawk, smile, or wave. Steve is happy to wave back. He feels at ease in public for the first time since before the serum; he eats at every food stand, amazed by the smells. Bucky, Becca, and Justin look on in wonder at how much he puts away.

As they near the end of the festival’s vendor stands, Becca pulls Justin towards a jewelry tent full of handmade earrings. Steve and Bucky wander over to a tent full of old stuff like vintage records, clothing, and even an antique Victrola.

Steve stops and reaches out to caress it’s smooth wooden veneer.

“You like this, don’t ‘cha?” Bucky asks. “Does it remind you of something?”

Steve glances at Bucky and nods. “Yes. My mom had one of these. Looks just like it, actually.”

“This Victrola was made in 1923,” says an old man wearing a brown Fedora who emerges from the dark corner of the tent. “It’s called a Baby Grand Victrola. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

“No, sir, they don’t,” Steve says.

They watch as the guy puts on a demonstration, playing an old 78 rpm record. It’s a big band tune that Steve recognizes but doesn’t know by name.

The music sounds scratchy and old on the Victrola, but there’s a haunting quality to it. Bucky snakes his arm around Steve’s and leans in and for a few moments the rest of the world disappears.

“How much is this thing?” a woman asks loudly, breaking the dreamy bubble.  The music and Victrola have drawn a crowd and Steve’s hackles stand all the way up as he glances around.

“Thank you, sir,” he says quietly, nudging for Bucky to move with him.

They push their way through a few layers of people until they can find Becca and Justin in the jewelry tent again.

“Relax. No one sees you,” Bucky whispers, his breath tickling Steve’s ear.

Steve looks around and realizes that once again, Bucky is right. No one even glances at him.

“How did you guys make out?” Justin asks. “If I see another earring I’m going to go cross-eyed.”

Becca pokes him in the side with her elbow. “Hey, I put up with you looking at baked goods for ten minutes.”

Bucky's arm around Steve tightens as he motions his head towards a stand advertising ‘Funnel Cakes’. “Have you ever had one?”

Steve shakes his head, but he’s definitely open to it. So far, everything they’ve tried has been really appetizing.

“Oh my god, prepare to have your world turned upside down,” Bucky says.

Steve watches as he orders a funnel cake with ‘the works’. When the order comes up, they all sidle up to Bucky and Steve laughs.

“Geez,” he mumbles, gaping the plate of sugary bread, fruit, and syrup in his hand.

Becca hands Steve and Justin a fork and they all dig in.

It’s eaten rather quickly, and Steve has to admit, it’s one of the best things he’s ever tasted since waking up. He’s tempted to order another one just for himself.

“We have to get going,” Becca says with a pout. “Gig prep.”

Steve and Bucky exchange a look of disappointment.

“Why don’t you guys stay and hang out,” Justin suggests.

“Yeah, that’s cool. I’ll control the DJ booth tonight,” Becca says, with a little too much excitement.

“Don’t get too comfortable up there. I see you, you’re already plotting the take over,” Bucky says.

Becca rolls her eyes. “There’s no way I’m shaking my ass the way you do for tips.”

Bucky feigns like he’s affronted. “The crowd loves it.”

“I know I do,” Steve gushes.

“Aww. Geez, you two are sickening cute,” Justin says. “Go frolic and make moony eyes somewhere else.”

Bucky bats his eyes at Steve and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

Steve grins as he takes it.

“See you guys later,” Becca calls. Steve looks back and waves.

“This is fun, thanks Buck,” Steve says as they make their way back up the block.

“Yeah, spring and summertime in Brooklyn is the best. They have one of these somewhere every week.”

Steve is a bit surprised. The idea of attending one of these every week sounds amazing. “That’s certainly different from when I grew up here.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Bucky says, bumping his shoulder against Steve. “When I was a kid, this was my favorite part of summer. Well, besides Coney Island.”

Steve almost stops in the middle of the street. “I love Coney Island, too. Well, most of it.”

“Oh man, I cannot wait to take you! So much has changed -- have you been since you came back? Of course you haven't. You're gonna love it, it's like this but every day.”

“So it’s a date?” Steve says, looking at Bucky from beneath his lashes. He enjoys the rapt attention Bucky’s giving to his face.

“Yeah, definitely,” Bucky says softly.

It feels like Steve’s insides are turning to mush, but then he remembers they’re out in public and he stops himself from tonguing Bucky indecently. Bucky sighs, like he also wishes they had more privacy, but then his eyes light up. “Since I have the night off, there’s another place I’d like to take you, if you’re up for it.”

“Where?” Steve asks.

Bucky gives him a sly look. “Don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Just trust me, Stevie. You’ll like it.”

“Okay, lead the way,” Steve says.

Hand in hand, they walk a few blocks through the crowd until they reach the Red Line.

As they wait for the train, they trade notes about Coney Island -- their favorite rides, and what has changed since Steve last saw it.

When the train arrives, they crowd into the seat together. Steve tries to practice restraint, but whenever its clear no one is looking in ducks in for kiss. He glances around right after, but nobody's looking at them.

“It’s crazy how no one’s spotted me,” he leans in and whispers.

“Maybe they have,” Bucky says.

Steve considers the possibility of people noticing who he is, but remaining at a respectful distance and not trying to get paparazzi shots with their phones. “I have to be honest, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Told ya,” Bucky says. “It’s New York, Steve. I hate to break it to you, but unless you’re saving lives, you’re just another schmuck on the street.”

Steve barks out a surprised laugh. “Oh really? Is that how it is?”

Bucky shrugs. “Granted, you’re hotter than the average schmuck and you have a great ass, but yeah.”

“Jerk,” Steve says, hip checking Bucky.

They push and elbow each other like kids until, four stops later, Bucky gets abruptly to his feet. “We’re here!”

They emerge from the subway station into the cool evening under a large lamp post. Steve stumbles a bit before stopping in his tracks to stare at the building taking up the entire block across the street.

He doesn’t realize he's standing there frozen until Bucky asks if he’s okay.

Steve exhales. “Yes. I’m fine. That’s the Brooklyn Museum.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says with a smile.

Steve shakes his head. “It looks exactly the same. It’s like nothing’s changed.”

“Have you ever-- ”

Steve nods. “All the time. It was a cheap field trip for the Society.”

“The Society?”

Steve exhales, a knot forming in his stomach. He turns to look at Bucky. “The Orphan Society - where I grew up after my mother died.”

A look of shock passes over Bucky’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn't think.”

"It’s not like it's in the history books. Guess it was too depressing to include, even for a fairytale about a skinny kid becoming a national hero....If we did our chores and didn’t cause too much trouble, the Sisters of the Society would promise us a trip to the museum. They had this children’s section... Bucky when I tell you it was amazing, it was _amazing_. I think we were their guinea pigs or something. They’d try new games out on us and then ask us what we liked or didn’t like about them. Then they had these workshops on everything from how to take pictures to writing short stories and painting. Those were my favorite. Coming here was probably the only thing I really had to look forward to back then.”

It’s hard looking at Bucky after that admission, but Steve forces himself to look up. Bucky’s eyes are glassy in a way that makes Steve uncomfortable. He wants to tell him that it wasn’t so bad, but that would a lie, and he’s had enough of trying to do that. It doesn’t suit him at all.

Steve shrugs, trying to brush the feeling off. “Anyway, why are we here? What’s going on?”

“First Saturdays at Brooklyn Museum.” Bucky makes a grand gesture with his hand, as if that will explain everything.“I'm not even going to explain, you have to experience it for yourself. Come on.”

They cross the street and get sucked into the crowd making its way inside. Steve’s hold on Bucky’s hand tightens as people start to turn their heads and actually look at him closely.

“It’s okay, come on,” Bucky says encouragingly.

Steve nods, trying to look nonchalant, even though all of his internal warning bells are going off. They follow a line through the first floor, where there are several very intimate paintings of people’s mouths wide open, tasting and licking things that pop and fizz and vibrate with color and sensuality. Arranged strategically along the walls, down the corridor and up high near the ceiling, they’re all by a woman named Marilyn Minter. Steve can’t take his eyes off of them, even as they move on to the next and next.

“They just let anyone walk in here?”

“Yep! You haven’t seen anything yet,” Bucky says, tugging his hand towards the elevators, where a security guard nods and ushers them on board with a group of others until they’re all crammed in like sardines. Steve tries to look everywhere around him without being obvious. There’s one young man staring at him intensely, but he looks more like a starstruck fan than a threat.

They exit and someone squeezes Steve’s bicep. He tenses and looks down at a chubby Latina woman and her daughter.

“It is you. Thank you for what you did last year. You saved my husband.”

“You’re welcome, Ma’am,” Steve says and smiles down at her daughter, who’s beaming up at him. “And nice to meet you.”

“Say hi to Captain America,” the woman says.

“Hi,” the little girl says shyly as she grabs her mother’s leg.

“Hello,” Steve says.

“You have flowers on your face,” the girl says, giggling.

Steve smiles. “Yes, I do.”

“I like it,” she smiles up at him.

“Well thank you.”

“Come along now, we don’t want to bother him. Just wanted to say hello,” she says, throwing Steve a quick smile and taking her daughter’s hand to lead her away.

Steve glances around to see if there will be others, but people are moving past them, heading intently to the next room.

“Wait until you see this,” Bucky says, holding out his hand once more.

Steve clasps it and lets himself be led into a gigantic ballroom. It puts the old style of dance halls from his day to shame, at least five times larger. It’s bright, and there are people of all ethnicities and ages dancing to the DJ’s mix of music that includes fast drums, bright horns, and guitars thrown in.

“Salsa!” Bucky exclaims and backs his way onto the dance floor.

Steve gulps and steps forward, worried that he’ll lose Bucky in the crowd. When he catches up to him, Bucky’s hips are moving and his feet are making skilled patterns on the floor, but it doesn’t even look like he’s trying.

“Come on, Stevie, dance with me!”

Steve looks around and notices everyone is just caught up in the moment, laughing, clapping, and moving in their own special way, some of them on beat, some of them off and just doing a weird jig that can barely be called dancing.

And no one cares.

It gives him a shot of confidence to move. He sways from side to side until Bucky takes his hand, puts his foot back, and beckons Steve to step forward and lean in. They do this several times, and then Bucky encourages Steve to put his hips in it.

It’s hard, and Steve still feels out of sync, but he’s developing his own style, something that may not be smooth but has its own comfortable rhythm. It actually goes with the music when he begins to let go.

“Look at you!” Bucky says, doing a little turn and falling back into his step.

Steve raises his eyebrows, impressed, but he refuses to be outdone and turns as well.

Bucky cheers like Steve just did a handstand. “Hot damn!”

The DJ switches the song, and they keep on dancing, even after the song changes again and again.

When the party ends, ushers invite people to come outside in the back for a live concert. Bucky’s drenched and there’s a light dusting of sweat on Steve’s brow. It feels like he’s stepped into a dreamworld as he and Bucky move to the garden outside. It’s lush with the kind of flowers Steve’s mother would have loved, the kind she used to always talk about, and for a moment Steve is at a loss for words.

“Well this is new,” Steve murmurs.

Bucky smiles. “This is my favorite part of First Saturdays.”

There’s a live concert already underway with drummers, a guitar player, and an entire horn section on a huge stage set at the end of the garden. A beautiful brown woman with wild curls and a red flower in her hair is singing something in spanish. The people gathered on the grass near the stage are dancing, some of them soaked in sweat from the party in the ballroom.

Steve and Bucky watch on with Bucky occasionally breaking away to do a little dance, but he always comes back to Steve, grinning. Taking it all in, Steve tries to remind himself this is real and that he can actually have a life outside of fighting. A life with Bucky, filled with everything the city has to offer -music, street festivals, art, dancing, and new surprises. He can’t imagine giving it up now.

“Wanna get out of here?” Bucky asks when the set begins winding down. As they make their way back to the front, Steve’s head is still buzzing from the events of the day.

“What a night,” he says. Bucky nods and bumps his shoulder. Steve can’t take his eyes off of him. He’s beautiful, with his flushed complexion painted with fading flowers and wet hair.

Steve pulls him close, enveloping him and whispers, “Thank you.”

“Not done yet, punk,” Bucky says.

“What?”

“You said you wanted me to be your tour guide, right? Well let me do my job.”

“Alright,” Steve replies, curious and excited, and follows Bucky into the next new wonder.


	12. Thanks for the Memory of an Enchanted Evening

Bucky drags him across the street to descend back down into the subway.

Steve looks up at the overhead sign. “We’re going back Uptown? ”

“Not telling you. Don’t worry though, it’s still in Brooklyn.”

There’s excitement dancing in Bucky’s eyes, and it’s enough to quell the frustration Steve feels about heading on a train without knowing the destination.

This time when the train rolls into the station there is considerably more space, and Steve and Bucky have their choice of seats. Bucky still insists on leading them to the very back of the car, away from the other passengers. With their hands still locked together, Steve takes his seat nearly chokes out a gasp as Bucky plants half his ass and right leg over Steve’s lap. It feels too intimate for public transit and Steve’s face feels like it’s going to burst into flames.

He clears his throat. “You’re gonna draw attention.”

“You think?” Bucky says playfully, squirming a little.

“Bucky…”

“Will you just chill out? What have we learned today, boys and girls?”

“No one cares?” he says slowly.

“Exactly!”

Steve peeks down the car and sees everyone looking blankly into space, reading, or asleep.

“Yeah, okay,” he concedes.

Bucky hums, a small smile on his face. “I love taking the train. I really do. I know a lot of people complain about it being dirty and crowded, and people being rude, but it’s just…”

He stops in mid-sentence and sighs.

“What?”

Bucky looks down at their joined hands. “This city…it’s just, when I was out in the desert, I never thought I’d see it again. Being out and doing normal shit like this makes me feel alive.”

“Which desert? You never told me,” Steve asks softly.

Bucky gives him a wry smile. “Pick any desert in any Middle Eastern country, and I’ve been there.”

“Oh.”

Something in Steve’s chest clenches as his eyes fall to Bucky’s left side. He tries to avert his gaze quickly, but Bucky’s watching him. He waits for anger or defensiveness, but Bucky’s face is the picture of calm. Suddenly Steve has so many questions – How did he lose his arm? Does he have the same type of nightmares Steve has? But if there’s one thing Steve’s experience with war has taught him, it’s that Bucky’s memories about serving are probably landmines of their own and it's best to not go stepping into them uninvited.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it back too."

“Thanks,” Bucky says with a fond smile.

The subway screeches to a halt and the intercom announces the stop. They watch a new batch of passengers file in, this time mostly teenagers. They’re quite loud and crowd towards the back, taking seats or standing right across from Steve and Bucky. Steve feels his heartbeat speed up as he grows increasingly more self-conscious. When one of the teens whips out his phone and holds it up like he’s about to snap a picture, Steve goes stiff and tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand.

Squeezing back, Bucky gives Steve a big wet kiss right on lips that leaves Steve caught between surprise and panic.

One look across the aisle and Steve discovers that the teen he thought was taking his picture is now laughing and engaged in conversation with his friends. None of them are looking at Steve or Bucky.

Bucky is smirking like he knows something that Steve doesn’t and it makes Steve squirm a little.

“Now I get it,” Bucky says softly against his ear, sending shivers through Steve. “It’s like getting stung by a bee.”

"What?"

Bucky smiles and rubs against Steve's shoulder like an overgrown cat. Steve likes it a little too much. “The first few weeks after getting your first bee sting, you become super paranoid about anything that looks remotely like an insect. It doesn’t even have to be a bee. All insects are a threat. And you walk around anticipating the next sting, so you start to avoid places and things that may attract insects. Anything to avoid that pain.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been stung.”

Bucky gives Steve a truly impressive eyebrow raise. “Oh, you’ve been stung. And it’s ruining New York for you. Maybe even your life.”

Looking away, Steve intently watches the teens across the aisles for any sign they’ve heard the conversation. But they’re standing up and getting ready for the next stop. The train screeches to a halt and the teens file out. Steve exhales a little. “Well, if we’re gonna talk metaphors, then I have to insist that you refer to the press as hornets. They’re not bumblebees, Bucky - they travel in swarms and when they attack, they’re relentless.”

There’s a sad smile on Bucky’s face. Steve wants to make a joke, to minimize it and go back to easy conversation, but nothing’s coming to him.

“Well New York isn’t perfect, Steve,” Bucky says, “but it’s is not a hornet’s nest either. I’m going to take you on a picnic to prove it.”

“Central Park?” The train jerks to a stop and Bucky slides off of Steve’s lap to stand up, Steve follows him.

“Yeah, we can do that if you like. But I thought we were still speaking in metaphors.”

“ _You_ were speaking in metaphors; I was just playing along. Now can you finally tell me where we’re going right now?”

Bucky just gives him a big smile as he pulls them out onto the platform. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The night air is warmer than usual for this time of year and the sounds of the neighborhood play like a symphony all around them. It’s different than the aggressive cacophony of Midtown. The laughter is softer, the voices sound friendlier, somehow more familiar even though the people they pass are all strangers. There are no honking horns or brash loud voices cursing. They hug the inside of the sidewalk at the swoosh of a bicycle approaching, and then a tiny ding as the rider passes.

“Looking good, boys!” the woman says with a smile in her voice.

Bucky turns and starts walking backwards with a huge smile on his face. “Brooklyn, baby! Am I right?”

Steve laughs. They walk a few more blocks until they reach a huge mural. There’s a line of stems sprouting out of a patch of grass, but instead of flower petals, there is an assortment of famous people on each stem. The backdrop is familiar, it’s a line of multicolored row houses similar to the ones they passed. Steve only recognizes half of the faces, but from Lena Horne, Walter Berndt, and Buddy Rich to Jay-Z (who Clint introduced him to a year ago), it's a diverse portrait.

Steve gasps when he finds a likeness of himself. Not just the post-serum national icon -- his old face, his old body, one half of two images. Steve Rogers and Captain America, side by side, as though equally important. A lump forms in his throat, preventing him from speaking.

“Like it?” Bucky asks.

Steve's lips part but no words come out. He can feel the weight of Bucky’s attention and expectation. Finally, he pulls his gaze away to look at Bucky. “This is amazing, Buck. Who painted this?”

“Kids in the neighborhood. Just…regular kids. You’re important around here, and not just because of who you are now. It’s who you were when you were chosen that makes you special.”

Steve feels tears threatening to spill from his eyes.Embarrassed, he looks up to the sky, because it’s beautiful and full of stars. Maybe if he looks up long enough, he can keep tears from actually falling.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he says, hating how choked up he sounds.

Bucky gives him a toothy grin. “Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet.”

Before Steve can even ask what else Bucky has planned, Bucky pulls him around the corner. In no time they're walking into a french bistro called Chez Moiat, all stone, wood, and fancy velvet curtains. A really snooty-looking hostess motions them to follow her over to a bookshelf. Steve looks around, wondering why a French restaurant has such a large bookshelf and why they’re being directed to it.

Then she presses one of the books and the bookshelf slides over. Steve’s eyes pop and he looks at Bucky, who is wagging his eyebrows. They peer down into the dark entrance, to a flight of plush velvet steps, lit by small lights in the wall.

“Bucky…”

Bucky laughs. “Steve, it’s not a secret terrorist base. Trust me, okay?”

Bucky leads him down the steps until they reach a darkened wooden door.

Bucky takes the handle and opens it, and--

Steve's mouth drops open. The interior is a mixture of old world brick, stone, dark wood, gold and velvet. It harkens back to another time period, one even older than his.

Steve is spellbound. The banquettes against the old stone walls are lined with red velvet which matches the curtains surrounding the stage up ahead, dead center. There’s a band playing what sounds like Billie Holiday, a young blonde woman singing. She’s not great, but she looks lost in the song, and that alone is hypnotizing.

“Bucky, what is this place?” he whispers. The comforting press of Bucky’s fingers pressing into his side beckons him closer.

“Barnes,” the bartender calls. He stands tall behind a Rococo-style bar. A brunet like Bucky, he appears to be in his 20s and looks distinguished in his all-black attire. “Was wondering when we’d see you again.”

“Been busy, Sal,” Bucky says. “You know how it is. I’d like to introduce you to a very good friend of mine - Steve Rogers. Steve, this is my friend Sal, he’s part-owner of this place.”

Sal’s face lights up as he studies Steve’s. Steve tries not to appear uncomfortable under the man’s gaze. “Oh boy, Barnes, you sure do know how to make an entrance. Captain Rogers, it is truly an honor. Welcome to Le Boudoir.”

“Thank you. This place….is quite impressive.” Steve glances around at baroque gilded mirrors, antique sconces, paintings, and glassware.

“Thank you very much,” Sal says. His eyes dart to Bucky, who sighs and waves his hand.

“Go on, Sal, I know you’re dying to do your spiel.”

A wide grin breaks on Sal’s face. “It would be truly a shame if Captain Rogers was not given a proper introduction to Le Boudoir. Captain Rogers, I will not take up most of your time. Please sit, and allow me to give you a brief introduction to my establishment.”

Steve nods and takes a seat on the tall wooden barstools upholstered with dark red leather cushions. Bucky takes a seat beside him. Sal pours Bucky a whiskey and asks Steve what he’ll have.

“Mineral water,” both he and Bucky answer at the same time.

Sal gives Bucky a knowing smirk. “I see. Right away, Captain.”

When he returns with Steve’s water, he launches right into what sounds like a well-practiced speech. “I'm Salvador Capone, but people around here call me Sal. I was born and raised right here in Brooklyn Heights, where my family has been for generations. This club, Le Boudoir, is a premier cocktail lounge fashioned in the style of the former Queen of France, Marie Antoinette.

“Ah,” Steve says, finally placing where he recognizes the style. He saw glimpses of it when he served in France.

“I guess you could say, my wife and I were inspired,” Sal says. “I’ll have to introduce you to her sometime. We pride ourselves on discretion, fine liquor, and good music. As you can see, from the secret entrance, we take great precautions to ensure that anyone who enters has the same intimate experience. Therefore, although we do not advertise, there are rules in place to maintain this peace. ”

A strange new excitement begins to grow as Steve listens to Sal. “And what exactly are the rules?”

Sal shows all of his teeth when he smiles. “I’m so glad you asked, Captain Rogers.”

It sounds friendly on the surface, but there’s a bit of steel behind Sal’s words, like if Steve doesn’t respect the rules, Captain America or not, he better be prepared to face this man’s wrath. Steve sweeps his gaze over Sal’s medium frame. Begrudgingly, Steve has to admit, he kind of respects it.

“Rule Number One: Vegas rules apply here. What happens at Le Boudoir, stays at Le Boudoir. No one who enters this space is allowed to post pictures with anyone in the press, on social media, or email.

"Rule Number Two: No cameras. Taking pictures inside results in an automatic ban. Banned patrons are free to make an appeal for re-entry at another time but…well, let’s just say, it’s best not to go down that road. Patrons with camera phones are expected to turn them off when they enter. If it is absolutely necessary to make a call, we ask that the call be taken upstairs in Chez Moi. In your case, Captain Rogers, we would allow an exception. I only ask if you must leave your phone on for emergency calls, that you put it on vibrate so as not to disturb other patrons, or our singers."

Steve nods, eager to agree.

“Rule Number Three: No autographs. Give people their space, no matter how famous they are. That means if a patron sees someone that they admire, they may offer a short polite greeting, a nod, and a smile, but it ends there unless they are prompted to come over or engage in conversation. Patrons and their guests are expected to exercise courtesy and social etiquette and not gawk or stare. And absolutely under no circumstances is anyone allowed to interrupt a person’s meal or sit down at someone’s table without an invitation. People come here to enjoy their friends and relax, get a little breather from the outside. We want everyone to have that experience.”

Steve holds up his hand, trying to digest what he’s hearing and clamp down on the mounting excitement. There has to be a catch to all of this. “So what you’re saying is that you primarily cater to the rich and famous.”

Sal’s vibrant laughter fills up the entire space while Bucky just smiles on as if Steve said something funny.

“Does Barnes strike you as rich or famous, Captain Rogers?”

“Hey!” Bucky says in protest, and Steve feels offended on his behalf.

“Actually, Sal, Bucky is one of the most popular DJs in the city,” Steve says trying not to roll his eyes at the way Bucky puffs out his chest. “He may not be rich, but he’s been featured in the _Times_ more than once.”

Sal sighs with great exaggeration, like he’s heard this before from someone else. Probably Bucky. “Sure, sure. Mr. Barnes is well known, but that is not why we like him or why he visits. We have several patrons who are considered elite, but I assure you that does not play a role in our service to them. In fact, we have denied entry to some well-known and highly regarded celebrities who had a problem following our rules.”

Steve’s eyebrows climb. He has other questions but all is forgotten when a deep raspy voice rises from the stage. It’s melodic tone draws Steve’s attention.

 _No one to talk with_  
_All by myself_  
_No one to walk with_  
_But I'm happy on the shelf_  
_Ain't misbehavin'_  
_I'm savin' my love for you_  

The voice and song leaves Steve unable to move or speak. His eyes stay fixed on the heavyset black man singing on the microphone. The rest of the guests look up as well, as if they too are deeply affected by the singer.

Steve swallows, trying to find his breath and voice. “That’s, uh, that’s Fats Waller.”

“You certainly know your stuff, Captain. Not that I expected any less,” Sal says. “That is Fats Waller’s song. I don’t know if you heard, but Fats died shortly after you crashed the Valkyrie in the Arctic. Thank you for your service, by the way. That was a very brave thing you did.”

Steve blinks a few times, trying to dispel the weird sensation of being caught between the echo of a memory and the present moment of being here in this old-looking new place where people sing Fats Waller songs from 1929. A flood of pictures and voices from his past cloud his vision. He clears his throat, trying to gain composure.

When he turns his head to look at Sal, the man is wearing a gracious smile. “The man you see up there is one of our regulars,” Sal says, pointing to the stage. “It’s one of the perks of Le Boudoir. We follow the old tradition in the way of the Clamart Salon in Paris. Every night here is open mic night. Sometimes we have distinguished guest performers, but on most nights our patrons provide the entertainment. It’s all about self-expression and good old fashioned fun.”

“That’s….that’s wonderful,” Steve says, aware of the raw emotion in his voice as he looks to Bucky, who just beams and extends his hand. Steve takes it and squeeze, grateful for the steady presence Bucky offers at his side, since he feels a bit lightheaded.

“Do you sing, Captain?” Sal asks.

“Huh? Ah...” Steve looks down at his feet.

Bucky scoffs. “Does he sing? Sal, Steve here will sing any and everything if you give him a microphone. From old classics to today’s Top 40. This guy is a singing machine.”

Sal claps his hands, looking very pleased. “Excellent! Captain, I think you’re going to fit in perfectly here. And I’ll tell you something else: you won’t be the only person from your generation who frequents Le Boudoir. We get drop-ins from everyone from Tony Bennett to Harry Belafonte. If you like Fats Waller, I guarantee you’ll love the way Belafonte sings him. But enough talk -- I’ll have Jasmine set you up for a banquette. Jasmine!”

Steve glances at Bucky, whose expressions belong to a kid who been trying to hold a secret all day and can no longer contain it.

A tall, regal-looking black woman with her hair done in intricate braids approaches them with a smile. She ushers them down an aisle that leads right to the stage and motions towards a banquette somewhere in the middle. The others are mostly occupied, but height of each banquette provides some semblance of privacy. Steve loves it.

The audience claps at the man on stage takes a bow. A older gentlemen with a generous midsection and a whiskered mustache that reminds him of Dum Dum comes from behind the curtain as he walks up to the microphone.

“That was ‘Ray’ everyone, singing some Fats Waller. The list is dwindling down, so if you feel so inclined to share a song with us, feel free to come to flag your waitress or waiter down and put in your request. As you know, the band will play pretty much anything. Next up, we have another regular -- you know her as ‘Debra’.”

There are a few cheers and a wolf whistle that reminds Steve of some of Bucky’s crowd. A older white woman takes to the steps of the stage, and the MC steps aside.

“Evening everyone,” she says.

The audience replies with different variations of ‘hello’, and instantly Steve is struck with just how intimate this feels. It’s like a room full of friends, singing for each other.

“It’s kinda like real karaoke,” Bucky murmurs against his ear. “Like they do in Japan. It doesn’t really feel like a strange crowd, does it?”

Steve shakes his head as an old familiar jumble of nerves, anticipation, and daring buzzes beneath his skin. He wants to sing. He wants to sign up.

When he glances at Bucky, he knows it’s mutual.

“Let’s do it,” Bucky says, raising his hand to flag their waiter down.

A skinny guy with several piercings in his ear ask if they want to replenish their drinks and put in for an appetizer. They say yes to both and then Steve asks if they can sign up.

“Sure thing, just give me your name and your songs,” their waiter says. Steve keeps waiting for the kid to recognize him, or ask for an autograph, but then he remembers what Sal said and realizes how egotistical he’s being.

“You don’t have a book?” Steve asks.

“No Sir, the band can play backup to anything you request. They’re the best."

Bucky gives Steve a knowing smile. “Anything, Stevie.”

Steve shrugs and writes down a song he’s been dying to sing since he first discovered karaoke.

“Let me see,” Bucky says, leaning over. “Oh! Okay, if you’re gonna sing that, then….” Bucky pulls the little slip of paper away from Steve and turns towards the wall to write his request down, peeking back to make sure Steve isn’t looking.

Steve laughs. “What’s the big secret?”

Bucky smiles as he hands the waiter the request slip. “You’ll see.”

Between their drinks being refilled and appetizers, they watch as various audience members take the stage. Bucky is being extra handsy and Steve is digging it, feeling free to touch and nuzzle and kiss Bucky in the same way they normally do in private. Every time Steve looks up, ready to catch someone’s eyes, he finds that people are engaged in conversation or enjoying the performance on the stage.

Pretty soon, he just stops looking and decides to focus on being free to be with Bucky in this place. Bucky smells like whiskey and clean sweat and he’s talking softly about learning salsa and his love of dance. It’s all blending together and becoming fodder for that old fantasy Steve had before he even knew Bucky -- of Bucky stripping down, putting on a private show just for him.

“We have a newcomer tonight,” the MC says then. “His name is ‘Steve’ and he’s going to sing something very old, but new for the Le Boudoir. I think you’re gonna like it. Please give a warm round of applause for Steve."

Steve takes a deep breath as Bucky kisses his cheek and squeezes his hand. He stands and walks briskly down the aisle. People smile and nod at him as he passes. Maybe this won’t be so bad. The women and men in the band are give him encouraging smiles as he takes the stage, like they know him. It puts him at ease.

“You start, I follow,” says the olive-skinned piano player.

Steve looks out at the audience and his eyes find Bucky, who’s smiling up at him. The old-world feel of the place makes it easier to pretend he’s at some underground speakeasy from another time, when Peggy and the Howling Commandos could walk in at any moment and listen.

He closes his eyes and just breathes before starting his verse. The piano joins in, soft and alone.

 _Thanks for the memory_  
_Of candlelight and wine, castles on the Rhine_  
_The Parthenon and moments on the Hudson River Line_  
_How lovely it was!_  
_Thanks for the memory_

  
_Of rainy afternoons, swingy Harlem tunes_  
_And motor trips and burning lips and burning toast and prunes_  
_How lovely it was!_  
_Many's the time that we feasted_  
_And many's the time that we fasted_  
_Oh, well, it was swell while it lasted_  
_We did have fun and no harm done_  
_And thanks for the memory_

He can see Dum Dum laughing at him, calling him a dramatic sap, while Jacques and Gabe hold their hearts and fake fainting from the sentimentality. The Jim and Monty in his mind watch on with quiet respect. Peggy... she would smile up at him and tell him she appreciated the song just with her eyes.

When he comes to the end and the piano tapers off, it feels like it’s over in seconds. Steve opens his eyes slowly to loud applause and calls for an encore. He laughs, shakes his head, and thanks the band.

“You did good, Captain! Real good,” says the piano player.

He exits the stage in a daze. Steve forgot what it felt like to be drunk, but the heady feeling of singing a song from his former life in front of a crowd that actually knows his identity leaves him feeling giddy and high. As he rejoins Bucky in the banquette, he tries to focus on encouraging the next singer, but it’s hard with Bucky pressing into him and gushing over what a good job he did. He turns his head and Bucky’s right there, his red pouty lips and light eyes only inches from Steve’s face. Steve squeaks out a strangled gasp when Bucky grips his left thigh underneath the table.

A mischievous smile is the all the warning Steve gets. Bucky closes in to plant his lips on Steve’s. With his head still buzzing from his performance, Steve feels free and frisky and he wants to taste Bucky, drink him in completely. He licks and nips, giving just as good as Bucky and losing himself in a filthy kiss.

They pull apart with a frustrated awareness that they’re out in public.“Wanna get out of here?” Steve mutters, as Bucky's hand crawls higher against his thigh. His pinky brushes against Steve's dick, and Steve’s breathing becomes shaky as Bucky leans in and runs his hot mouth up the side of his neck.

“No,” Bucky murmurs right before he gives a gentle bite to Steve’s earlobe. “Relax, Steve. We have all night to enjoy each other."

As though on cue, someone on stage is saying Bucky's name. Bucky flashes a smile and Steve steps out to let him stand. Steve already knows he’s in for a show by the way the wolf whistles as Bucky strides of the center aisle.

On the stage, Bucky exudes the same confidence he does when he’s DJing. It's like he belongs there. Steve feels himself swelling with pride. That’s his boyfriend, and he’s beautiful.

Bucky gives the crowd a dashing smile. “I’m gonna do some Perry Como. I hope you guys don’t mind me changing the pronouns?”

“Go for it!” someone calls, and the whole room smiles and chuckles.

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles and turns his back on the audience to talk to the band. He starts to snap his fingers like he’s a real big bang leader and the piano player moves his shoulders, leaning into the keys.

Bucky turns back around and grabs the microphone, his eyes unmistakably focused on Steve.

 _Some enchanted evening you may see a stranger_  
_You may see a stranger across a crowded room_  
_And somehow you know, you know even then_  
_That somewhere you'll see him again and again_

 _Some enchanted evening, someone may be laughing_  
_You may hear him laughing across a crowded room_  
_And night after night, as strange as it seems_  
_The sound of his laughter will sing in your dreams_

Every line could be from a love letter Steve wrote about how he felt when first met Bucky. But Bucky is singing this song to him. The room falls away, and Steve forgets to care what everyone around him thinks. He wants to  
take Bucky home and make love to him.

Bucky ends the song with a sexy smile and the audience gives louder applause than usual. Steve does one better and stands up to give a standing ovation. Bucky bows and steps down to stride back up the aisle and right into Steve’s arms.

Steve revels in Bucky’s pouty lips moving over his and he doesn’t ever want it to stop. He could keep kissing Bucky forever. The amount of adoration and care Steve has for this man rushes through his chest, making his heart flutter.

_I love him._

_I really love him,_ he realizes.

“Now we can get out of here,” Bucky says.

“Okay,” Steve says, and quickly pulls out his wallet to pay the bill.

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

They take a cab back to Bucky’s place. Steve’s hot mouth on Bucky’s neck makes fishing his keys out difficult. When Steve presses his erection against Bucky’s ass, it becomes damn near impossible to find the proper key to unlock both of his deadbolts and Bucky curses his hypervigilance. He really only needs one deadbolt, and he really needs to open the door now because Steve is an animal and Bucky wants him to pounce.

When the last lock clicks, Steve steps over threshold, as Bucky drops his keys to the floor, turning in his arms. He jumps on Steve, pushing against his chest. The door slams under the weight of Steve’s body being pushed back, and for a brief moment he appears to be in utter shock. He’s taller and stronger, but Bucky's hunger can be a force of its own.

“Ah come on, you gonna let me just push you around like that? Don’t make it too easy,” Bucky whispers.

Steve gives as good as he gets. He grabs the back of Bucky’s head to surge up to kiss him long and hard. Bucky grunts into his mouth and his hand slips down to Steve’s right nipple to give it little twist.

A small whimper escapes Steve and Bucky’s cock twitches in interest.

“Or maybe you like being pushed. Is that it, huh, Stevie?”

Steve nips Bucky’s lip and pulls back. “You sure do talk a lot.”

“I know you like it. In fact….” Bucky says, cupping Steve’s clothed erection. “It seems to get you hard.”

“Yeah, Buck. Yeah, it does.” Steve closes the small gap between them. Bucky moans, tasting apple pie, musk, and something he’s come to know to be distinctively Steve. They stay pressed against the door, grinding until Bucky’s erection is pressing painfully against his jeans and he’s practically panting. With his back against the door, Bucky has one leg hiked up and hooked around Steve’s hip. Steve pulls back with a dark look in his eyes, his fingers digging into Bucky’s thigh. Bucky leans in for another kiss and Steve growls into Bucky’s mouth.

“That is so fucking hot, do that again,” Bucky urges.

Steve puts a little more grit into his growl as he pulls back and presses his forehead against Bucky’s.

“Like that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes.

Steve drops his grip on Bucky and cups his ass to lift him up, giving Bucky no choice but to wrap his other leg around Steve and hold on as they move backwards, deeper into Bucky’s apartment. There’s an excited little smirk on Steve’s face, like he’s finally getting close to something he’s been pining for, and suddenly Bucky remembers they never get past this part. His fear, his insecurities, his disgust for his own body scream for him to fold, but he’s tired of dreaming about his boyfriend making love to him. He’s tired of simulating the act through layers of clothing until they’re both worked up beyond frustration. And tonight, Steve took a chance on him, Bucky wants to take a chance on Steve too.

Bucky wants this, he wants Steve, and he’s done with his insecurities pushing away something within his reach. He can’t, he won’t let them win tonight. But after an eventful day, he’s hyper aware of how much he stinks. If he’s going to expose all of his ugliness tonight, he’s damn sure not going to add a layer of funk to it.

“I’m gonna shower.”

Steve chuckles. “Bucky, you don’t need to,” he says, moving back in to suck on Bucky’s neck.

Bucky jerks his head back. “I’m.Gonna.Shower. Sit tight and don’t go anywhere,” he orders.

There’s surprise on Steve’s face, but also arousal. Steve nods. “Sure. I’ll wait.”

“You better,” Bucky says as he dismounts, putting both feet on the floor. He gives Steve a quick kiss and then turns into his bedroom, flips on the light and grabs a t-shirt and sweats from his bedroom, foregoing any underwear. What would be the point.

In the shower, Bucky lets the water wash over his hair as he tries to focus on optimism. There’s a lot of doubt, but enough evidence to give him hope that Steve will still want him. He tries to imagine how it’s going to feel to have Steve’s hands all over his skin. His breath turns shaky as he cleans himself out. Steve’s outside, waiting.

As Bucky towels off he checks the mirror, his eyes drifting to the stump and the way the jagged lines of the amputation mar the skin there. They almost match the chaos of scars that start underneath his left armpit and end at his left knee. He tries to see what Steve could possibly find sexy in his reflection. Even his killer hair and magnetic eyes take a backseat to the left side of his body. It’s so distracting, and Bucky has to close his eyes and grip the sink as his stomach rolls.

The knock on the door makes him flinch.

“You okay in there?”

“Uh, yeah...yeah.” He grabs his t-shirt and pulls it over his head and then steps into his sweats. When he opens the door, Steve looks concerned, but there’s relief there too.

“Thought I’d take one too,” Steve says.

“Don’t take all day in there,” Bucky says, trying to affect a casual smile.

Steve snickers. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal your boyfriend the mirror.”

“I resent that. For your information, me and the mirror have a open relationship. I just so happen to be his favorite,” Bucky says with a cheeky grin.

“Jerk,” Steve says before closing the bathroom door.

Bucky exhales and paces a little, then looks for the essentials. He pulls the half tube of lube from his nightstand and then spends several minutes debating about condoms. Steve told him it's impossible to get germs, hence he cannot spread them. But anal sex without condom is messy and Bucky hates the clean up. He’s overthinking this. He goes back to pacing.

When the bathroom door opens again, Steve is wearing a towel and sheepish expression.

Bucky licks his lips. “Well that’s one way to get started,” he says, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Steve runs a hand through his damp hair. “Uh, sorry. I forgot to bring an extra pair of clothing in here. Can you throw me something from my drawer.”

Bucky turns and considers the spare drawer he designated for Steve’s things over a month ago. Steve’s giving him an out. They don’t have to do this now.

“No, you’re wearing enough...actually, maybe too much,” he says with a meaningful stare.

Bucky can see the weight of his comment settling in when Steve’s eyes widen and his Adam’s apple bobs. Steve straightens his posture, pulling away from the bathroom door.

Bucky shores up all of his remaining courage and walks over to Steve to look him straight in the eyes. “I want you inside me.”

“I want that too,” Steve says earnestly. “But there’s no rush.”

“No, I’m ready now,” Bucky says.

Steve’s eyes roam over Bucky’s face like he’s looking for any sign of obligation or doubt. “You sure?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yes.” He presses his forehead against Steve’s and just breathes for a moment, trying to focus on this man, this wonderful, wonderful man, and ignore his screaming insecurities and the way they’re making him tremble.

“No pressure, Buck,” Steve whispers.

“I know, Stevie, but….” Bucky smiles. “It was really great watching you sing tonight. You went up there without a mask, or your baseball cap and sunglasses. You took a real risk. And the way you sang that old song, you really bring it to life again, you know? There was a magic to it. Thanks for trusting me today. I want to trust you too.”

Steve looks stunned. Bucky thinks he’s never seen anyone more handsome than this big schmuck. Steve Rogers is beautiful, strong, brave, honest, and so, so good. A wave of affection and fondness swells within him and he knows it has to be love. He almost blurts it out right then, but he bites it back, afraid that it might scare Steve or, worse, be unreciprocated. Steve dives in to kiss Bucky in a way that feels all-encompassing, like he’s trying to communicate every emotion with his lips. Bucky kisses him back with everything he has until they’re both gasping and laughing at the unbridled fervor of it. Bucky throws his arm around Steve’s neck as he walks them back towards the bed. The desire he has for this man is enough to make Bucky dizzy.

As soon as Bucky’s legs hit the bedframe, he promptly flops down, smiling as he looks up into those blue eyes. Steve’s biting his lips and Bucky’s eyes fall slowly over that heavenly body -- those perky pecs and washboard abs. Bucky’s eyes fasten onto every inch of exposed skin. None of the posters or pictures have done Steve justice. Or perhaps they just can’t capture something this magnificent.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect.”

“So are you,” Steve says, reaching out touch Bucky’s cheek. Bucky leans in and sighs when he feels Steve’s fingers sliding up to comb through his locks. Steve’s erection is jutting out beneath the soft cotton towel and Bucky wants to --he leans in to press his face into it, opening his mouth to trace his lips along length, his tongue brushing the soft cotton covering it.

A breathy moan fills the room as Steve buries his left hand in Bucky’s hair. “Buck,” he gasps. The sound of Steve turned on like this is heady and Bucky tugs at the towel Steve is still clutching to his hip.

“Can I?” he asks.

Steve chuckles, but it sounds strained, almost like a whimper. “What’s the rush, Buck? You said we had all night."

Bucky knows better than to trust that voice by now. “Oh fuck you,” Bucky says, yanking the towel off. Freed from restriction, Steve’s cock bobs in front of Bucky, larger than average in both length and girth, but not too big to accommodate. It’s impressive, tempting, and perfect.

Bucky licks his lips and scoots closer. He grasps Steve’s dick and places a kiss to the head, looking up. Steve gasps and a shudder runs through him as he places his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and backs away.

“Bucky, if you keep doing that, this is gonna be over before we even start. I wanna see you,” he says, staring down into Bucky’s eyes. “All of you.”

“I’m not cut like you,” Bucky says softly. “And uh, I have…” he trails off, his eyes falling to his left side.

“I don’t care,” Steve says resolutely.

Bucky gets a little sheepish then, looking up at Steve through his eyelashes. It’s an odd feeling. Steve’s the one who’s completely naked and on display but Bucky’s the one who feels exposed. His previous courage is quickly evaporating as he thinks of all the ways this could go wrong - Steve trying to put on a brave face to hide disgust, Steve giving him a pity fuck once he sees the stump and scars, Steve’s erection dying when he finds out he’s really not attracted to Bucky naked.

If Steve doesn’t like his stump or scars, it’s better to rip off the bandaid off now.

“I want to,” Bucky says, standing up slowly. He swallows and pulls his t-shirt up slowly until it catches his jaw.

Then he’s praying for courage to just get it over with. He closes his eyes.The t-shirt leaves his head and he clenches it in his fist, staring at a point on the floor right in front of Steve’s feet.

"Bucky, look at me," Steve says, using two fingers to left up Bucky’s chin so that their eyes meet. Bucky can feel his beating hard and erratic as he lifts his eyes. Steve is looking back at him with so much emotion, like he’s in awe and proud and maybe, just maybe a little in love. A choked sound leaves Bucky’s throat as Steve holds onto his chin and kisses him. It’s a different kiss than the others. Less lust, more tender.

Steve’s mouth pulls away. His lips caress the shell of his left ear. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “I love you so much, Bucky.”

A sob escapes Bucky. He grips Steve’s shoulder to hold himself steady. His knees are weak. “Say it again."

“I love you,” Steve says, smiling now. “I love you, Bucky.”

“Goddamn it, I love you too, Steve.” The confession feels cleansing in its raw honesty. Standing before Steve, half-naked with his scars visible, Bucky feels none of the judgement and pity he expected. Only the comfort and acceptance he’s been chasing since he came home eight months ago.

Bucky feels it in his bones in this moment. Finally, he is truly ready for Steve not only to be his best friend, but his lover, too.

He kisses Steve softly, gently licking into his mouth. Steve moans, cupping Bucky’s face as the kiss deepens. Bucky’s hand drifts down to one of Steve’s perky pecs and he pinches a nipple. The moan it elicits goes straight to Bucky's dick, and he pinches it again. Steve groans into his mouth with a bit of that growling Bucky finds so sexy, and then he picks Bucky up bridal style and lays him down on the bed.

Before Bucky can even get his bearings, Steve is crawling over top of him, kissing down the left side of his neck once more. One hand holding his face, and the other gripping his hip, Steve caresses his shoulder with his lips and trails them down to his upper arm. Bucky whimpers, the sensation of being touched in this way, right over his scars. It's almost too much.

“You okay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods hard. “Keep going.”

Hot wet lips resume their trail until they reach the end of the stump and linger there. Bucky doesn’t even realize he’s tensing up until Steve tells him to relax. He can feel tears gathering in his eyes like they always do when he’s about to stop things, but this time he won’t. Instead, he breathes in deep and focuses on the new sensation of Steve tasting him. Steve’s lips are warm and wet, and there’s a soft care in the way he moves them over the scarring. He’s taking his time and giving every bit of skin on Bucky’s left side equal attention. Bucky feel the wetness on his cheeks but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. Every press of Steve’s lips is tender and filled with a reverence that makes Bucky’s heart stutter. It feels good. So fucking good. Steve loves him and it’s seeping into his marred skin.

By the time Steve’s mouth reaches his hip, Bucky’s head is swimming. He’s nearly incoherent with emotion. His cock jerks towards the heat of Steve’s open mouth. Steve’s head is bowed as he delivers a series of kisses that inch toward centre. It tickles; Bucky giggles a little bit, a little wet but openly relieved. Steve looks up, smiling. A mischievous glint shines in his eyes. Without warning, he ducks back down and licks a long stripe along Bucky’s cock.

Bucky actually yelps. He’ll swear on his dog tags that it never happened, but it’s hard to stay embarrassed when Steve keeps kissing his cock like he’s been dying to do this for a very long time. Bucky’s hand flies to Steve’s head and he grips what he can of the short hair as Steve’s hot mouth swallows him down slowly. When he looks down, Steve has his eyes closed and his cheeks are hollowed out and he’s still going. Bucky’s feels his balls drawing up and he lets go of Steve’s hair and grips the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, but Steve’s tongue is doing amazing little tricks while his lips give suction, and it’s just too much.

“Steve, Stevie, Steveeee, I’m gonna….”

The lips around his cock squeeze and Steve makes an obscene slurping noise that send Bucky flying. He arches up and lets go of his cock to hold onto what he can beneath him. It feels like Steve’s shoulder, he doesn’t really know; his vision is spinning and his body is shaking with waves of pleasure.

He must space out for a minute because when he comes back to himself, Steve is kissing his hip, and is moving up and over to start a new trail up his stomach. Bucky shivers then, his body is loose and sensitive.

“I usually last longer.”

“What’s that?” Steve asks with a smug smirk.

“Oh you, asshole. You know exactly what I said.”

Steve smiles wide and rises to kiss Bucky full on the lips. He likes the taste of himself on Steve and hums his approval.

Steve's hard cock pokes Bucky in the stomach. Bucky pulls back.

“Wanna get you off,” he says in a low husky voice, gripping Steve tight.

Steve groans as his head falls to Bucky’s shoulder. “Okay.”

“How do you wanna come?” Bucky ask, jerking the smooth hard length in his hand.

Steve doesn't answer. He seems content with Bucky stroking him, but Bucky wants to make sure. He wants Steve to feel just as good as he’s made Bucky feel.

“Anything, Steve. Whatever you want,” he says against Steve’s ear, slowing down to listen for a response.

Steve pulls his head up to level Bucky a heated stare. "I think you said something about me being inside you."

Bucky looks over to his nightstand where the half used tube of lube sits and grins at him cheekily. Steve rises to his knees and leans over to grab it.

Bucky waits for Steve to open it, but Steve just throws it down near his hip and dives back down between his legs instead. Bucky's about to ask what he's doing when he feels a long hot wet tongue snaking its way up his ass. Bucky opens his mouth in a soundless gasp as Steve spreads him apart and begins to circle his hole. It’s not enough apparently because Steve licks and prods until his tongue is inside. Bucky moans loudly claws at Steve’s head as he sucks and licks, going deeper and deeper every time he returns to probe.

His dick is fully erect again by the time Steve pulls away and grabs the tube of lube.

“You’re very good at this,” is all Bucky can think to say.

Steve chuckles. “I’m glad you think so…”

Bucky watches as he squeeze a generous dollop of slick onto his fingers and reaches down to work on into him. The pressure is pleasant, about the same as how he starts on himself when he’s so inclined.

“Come on, Bucky, talk to me. What happened to all that mouth you had earlier?” Steve sinks inside of Bucky a little deeper.

Bucky moves, encouraging Steve to fuck him with it. “You want me to talk?”

“Yeah, talk to me."

“Want me to tell you how much I want your big cock?” The more he focuses on Steve’s finger moving inside of him, the faster the words seem to tumble out. “Tell you how long I’ve been dreaming about you putting that All-American dick in me? Is that what you wanna hear, Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck, yeah, tell me more,” Steve says, leaning closer as he adds a second finger. The pressure makes Bucky tighten up at first and then he’s pushing his ass onto Steve’s fingers, begging with his body.

“Want you fuck me good, Steve. Pound me into the mattress. Don’t hold back. I can handle it.” Steve begins to slid his fingers in and out just like a cock, but it’s not a cock. He wants it bad.“Need your dick, Stevie. Come on, give it to me.” He twists his hips urge him deeper.

“One more, Buck, take one more for me,” Steve whispers, and Bucky nods. The third fingers really stretches and burns as Steve pushes in but it feels good being filled with him. Bucky can practically imagine it's Steve’s long hard length buried inside of him and he throws his head back and moans.

“God look at you, you really want it, don’t you, Buck?” Steve asks, his eyes searching for Bucky’s face.

Bucky rocks back and forth, reveling in the stretch. “Yes, Stevie, yes, want you so bad. Fuck me.”

Steve withdraws his fingers and Bucky whines. Steve dips down and whispers against his lips, “I’m going to make love to you, is that okay?”

The words send Bucky off a cliff and his breath hitches. In all of his sexual encounters, he’s never called it that. It’s never been close.

“Yes…”

He watches with rapt attention as Steve draws up on his knees. He pulls Bucky’s legs further apart so he can get in position. Squeezing more lube into his hand, Steve strokes his gorgeous cock, getting it all nice and slick. With one hand near Bucky’s head and the other lining himself up, Steve leans in, pressing slow and insistent until Bucky can feel the head of his cock breaching him.

Bucky moans as he feels himself stretching to accommodate Steve. It’s a bit more than the three fingers, but his body is eager and hungrily accepts every inch.

“Oh God, Bucky,” Steve groans.

“Do I feel good, Stevie?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve grits out. “Yeah, Buck. Damn, you feel so good. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Bucky says as Steve nestles into Bucky and just holds still. It feels so good being this full and he wants fall apart just like this.

He rolls his hips and Steve groans and pulls his head back to stare down at him. When he begins to withdraw, Bucky protests, until Steve slowly sinks back deep inside of him. They maintain eye contact as Steve pulls out slowly and buries himself deep into Bucky again and again. Their combined moans fills the room and Steve clasps Bucky’s hand and presses his forehead against Bucky’s as his hips begin to snap forward. When he hits the magic spot, Bucky shouts. It seems to light a fire within Steve and he sets a slow but steady pace. Bucky can feel the muscles of Steve’s back tensing and his ass flexing and knows he’s close.

He’s focused on Steve reaching orgasm and doesn’t expect Steve to reach between their bodies and grab a hold of his dick.

“Oh! Oh, Stevie,” Bucky gasps.

Steve’s hands are talented and fast and everything inside of Bucky is screaming ‘yesyesyes’. His orgasm hits him unexpected and he sees stars as he spills over Steve’s hand. The rhythm Steve set is beginning to falter as he loses control and he goes rigid on top of Bucky as he lets out a loud groan.

They lay there, sticky, wet, panting, and Bucky can’t remember a time he’s felt this content. For the next several minutes, they trade languid kisses until finally Steve breaks their little bubble of bliss.

“We’re pretty gross, I’m gonna go clean up,” he says, giving Bucky one last kiss before climbing out of bed.

“Ugh,” Bucky groans, forcing himself to get up and follow him to the bathroom.

They end up making out again while Steve attempts to clean up. When he’s done though, Bucky kicks him out of the bathroom to properly take care of business.

When Bucky comes back out, Steve has the goofiest grin on his face and his hand is on the light switch.

“Climb in and get comfy, so I can turn out the light,” Steve says.

Bucky rolls his eyes, but does exactly that.

Steve turns off the light and climbs back into bed, pulling Bucky in tight again his chest. “I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles. “I love you too, Stevie. Tonight was amazing.” He kisses Steve’s arm draped around him.

“It really was, Buck. Thank you.”

“Told you Brooklyn was magical,” Bucky says smugly.

“I ain’t arguing with that.” There’s a fondness in Steve’s voice makes Bucky feel gooey.

“Would you argue if I asked for a second round?”

Steve barks out a laugh that shakes Bucky’s entire body. “Wow. I thought I was the only super soldier here.”

“Not right now, geez, ” Bucky says in exasperation. “But would you object to being awakened in the middle of the night for part two?”

“Definitely not,” Steve says in his ear.

Bucky closes his eyes, completely content and ready to drift into sleep for the first time in a long time without fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> “Thanks for the Memory” was written by Ralph Rainger and Leo Robin and was performed by Bob Hope and Shirley Ross
> 
> “Enchanted Evening” was written by Oscar Hammerstein II and performed by Perry Como and many others.


	13. Till the End of Time

Even after amazing sex, Bucky wakes up shouting with nightmares. He admits to Steve it’s not quite the morning after he pictured. When Steve asks what exactly he pictured, Bucky answers he’d envisioned pancakes and blowjobs. Steve promises to deliver on both, as soon as Bucky’s heart rate returns to normal. It takes almost an hour and several slow kisses for Bucky to feel steady enough to venture outside of the apartment, but he's determined not to let it wreck his entire morning. For breakfast, they decide to check out a local spot that gives back to the community by supporting local artists. The cafe is crowded because it’s Sunday and close to brunch. There's a short line outside and Steve pales a little at the sight of it, but then he gets a determined look in his eyes. When they finally get inside, Steve’s eyes pop at all of the art on the walls. They order- Bucky an egg sandwich and Steve, a frittata - and find a table in the corner near a window. The sound that comes from Steve after he pops a forkful of frittata in his mouth is downright obscene. Bucky snorts because somehow this guy, this giant dork is a superhero and probably the love of his life.

They spend the rest of brunch discussing places in Brooklyn, new and old, Steve wants to visit. Just when they’re about to leave, someone near the register calls Bucky’s name. A guy with short dreadlocks and a taupe complexion wearing a beanie hat and a Daft Punk t-shirt walks over to their table.

It takes a moment, but then Bucky recognizes him. He raises his hand to give DeShaun Taylor a half hug and handshake, laughing with surprise. “Oh my god, dude, what are you doing here?” Bucky exclaims. “I thought you were in Montreal?”

DeShaun laughs. “Man, I am! But I’m back in town visiting family, hanging out a little, and doing a few events. Matter of fact, I’m doing a celebrity gig next weekend, right here in Brooklyn.”

Bucky’s enthusiasm crashes and goes up in flames. It’s like the universe is conspiring against him. He’s managed to avoid any conversation about the Blink 182 event these past few weeks, but as the date gets closer, it’s been occupying his thoughts more often.

“So you’re one of the DJs? That’s good, man.” Bucky tries to sound happy for DeShaun because he’s a friend, but there’s a strange mix of envy and cynical stubbornness clouding his mood.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a good time,” DeShaun says. “I have to say though, I was surprised when I didn’t see your name on the roster. You’re one of the best, and you’re right here in Brooklyn. What gives? No one reached out?”

Bucky glances to Steve. “Yeah, they did,” Bucky admits. “I kinda missed the contract deadline. But they said I could sign on if I want. I’m still thinking about it.”

“What? Come on, ‘bro!” DeShaun says in his characteristic over-the top manner. “We can rock out together. Rub elbows with the celebrities, free drinks! Plus these people are paying big money. How you gonna turn all that down?”

Steve raises one disapproving eyebrow at DeShaun. Bucky’s stomach clenches. DeShaun must read the tension, because as his eyes dart between Steve and Bucky, he holds his hands up. “But hey, you do you. Not trying to pressure you.”

Bucky waves his hand in dismissal. “No, it’s cool. You’re right, there’s a lot of perks to it. I’ll take what you’re saying in consideration. Either way, I need to get back to them about whether I’m doing it, like, yesterday.”

DeShaun flashes his winning smile, and gives Bucky another half-hug handshake saying. “Cool, ‘bro. I really hope you’ll consider it.”

Steve clears his throat, looking between the both of them like perhaps he’s a little jealous. Bucky chuckles. It’s terrible, but he kinda likes it. “I’m sorry, DeShaun, I should have introduced you….this is my boyfriend, Steve. Steve, this is an old friend from high school, and sort of my DJ mentor, DeShaun.”

“Sorta? Man, I schooled you! _Anyway_ ,” DeShaun says, turning to Steve. “Nice to meet… Oh shit!” DeShaun’s eyes go wide like he’s just really seeing Steve for the first time. “Steve, as in Steve Rogers? Yo, Bucky! You can’t be serious? Your bae is Captain America?”

Bucky’s eyes dart to the table girls behind DeShaun. They’ve stopped pretending to eat and are full on staring now, along with half of the cafe. But Steve seems unfazed by the attention, almost like he expected it.

“Yes,” Steve replies louder than necessary. “He’s mine, you're correct. And it's nice to meet you, Deshaun.”

DeShaun turns down his mouth and nods in an exaggerated display of being impressed. It’s not a usual thing, for others to be impressed with who Bucky chooses to sleep with. Bucky has no idea how to feel about that reaction. “Okay, okay. I see you, Bucky. Coming up in the world. Well, I’m a fan, Captain. I appreciate what you did for the city. Thank you for your service, and please be good to my boy Bucky here. He’s a great guy.”

“I agree, he is,” Steve says, his smile reappearing like the sun emerging from the cover of a cloud.

“You have my number right?” DeShaun says.

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“Don’t dodge me, man,” DeShaun says with a playful smile. “It’s cool if you don’t wanna do the show, but I’d like to hang out with you one night before I go back.”

Never one to mince words. That’s why Bucky likes DeShaun. “Okay, man. I’ll text you soon.”

“Cool, I’ll look for it. Captain, keep doing your thing,” DeShaun says doing a sloppy salute.

Steve nods. “I will.”

DeShaun turns and walks out the cafe door, leaving Steve and Bucky staring at each other. Bucky can already tell from Steve’s expression that he has some things to say about the celebrity event, but Bucky really doesn’t want to have this conversation.

“Ready to walk this meal off?” Steve asks. He must be able to read it on his face.

Bucky sighs. “Yeah,” he says. As they leave, several heads turn. Bucky definitely sees a few camera phones. He tries not to roll his eyes, conscious that any expression he shows right now could end up on some tabloid news site. Maybe they'll have to start being careful after all.

Stepping outside into the sunlight isn’t quite as satisfying as it was this morning. There are more people in the street and more heads turn as they walk. Bucky’s grateful that people are, at least, keeping to themselves and not acting like fans or tourists. He purposefully leads Steve down a side street that isn’t used by through traffic. It’ll take longer to get home, but they need to have this talk now anyway. Home is for cuddling, kissing, and blowjobs.

“So….” Steve starts, swinging their joined hands like two school boys about to jump into the deep end of a pool. And maybe they are. They’ve never had an argument in person before.

“So…”

The sigh Steve emits is somewhere between frustration and reluctance, but Bucky knows he’s going to speak his piece anyway.

“Bucky, I just want to check in about the celebrity karaoke event. I don’t want you to feel coerced. It’s really important to me that if you decide to do it, that it’s because you want to do it. I’ll support you either way.”

“But?” Bucky prompts.

Steve starts to look down at the sidewalk while he’s walking. “But, it really does sound like a rare opportunity, and after meeting DeShaun, it’s even more evident they want you for your talent, not your disability.”

“I know."

There’s surprise on Steve’s face as he turns his head to look at him. “So you’re going to do it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky says, hating the annoyance seeping into his voice.

Damn Steve and those dopey eyes. The guy really has the whole kicked puppy look down.

“It’s not just about my disability,” Bucky pushes out. “Or feeling like a circus freak. I mean I get it now - people like what I do.”

“Okay, so then what about it bothers you?”

Bucky sighs as he tries to untangle the mess of emotions he’s been guarding since he was first offered the opportunity. “I dunno, Stevie. Karaoke is...my thing, you know?”

“I know."

But Bucky’s throat feels tight and his hand is growing sweaty. Steve doesn’t seem to care and squeezes it to offer reassurance. When Bucky continues speaking, he’s almost whispering. “After I lost my arm...they kept pushing me into therapy and rehabilitation and group, and they prescribed a shitload of meds. Stuff that made me feel worse, not better. My missing arm?” Bucky huffs. “That was the least of my worries. The bomb scrambled my brains real good. I couldn’t really concentrate or remember things too well. You see how long it took me to remember DeShaun? He was standing there a good five minutes before I placed who he was.The lead counselor for my VA group kept telling me to work on positive thinking. ‘Hang in there, Bucky, there’s always a silver lining.' But I couldn’t see it. I shut out my family, shut out Justin. Stayed holed up in my room and starting thinking how much easier it’d be if I wasn’t here.”

Steve stops walking and turns slowly to face Bucky, his face crumbling. It’s hard to look at him, but Bucky forces himself to because this is something Steve needs to know.

“One day, Justin and Becca just barged in. They broke down my door cause I wouldn’t answer it. I yelled at them real bad, cursed at them, tried to get them to leave and just give up on me. Know what Becca did?”

Steve shakes his head slowly.

“She started to sing. I’m fucking wasted, six sheets to the wind, smell like shit ‘cause I haven’t bathed in days. I’m cursing my best friend and baby sister out like they stole something from me, and Becca just starts singing ‘Lean on Me.’ I got so mad at her for singing that damn song because it was something we used to sing when shit was good, when I was...before I came home. But by the end of it, she had me and Justin singing along. And it felt so good, Steve. I hadn’t sang anything in months, hadn’t even thought about music. But after we got done singing that song, I knew I had to keep singing.”

Bucky’s never seen Steve cry, really could never imagine it, but there are tears in the corners of those big blue eyes.

“I do the counseling and take the meds because that’s what they say I have to do to keep my housing, but karaoke is my real therapy, Steve. It saved me. And I’m not sure I want this thing that calms me down to turn into something else. What if I do this celebrity thing and it blows up and changes everything? I don’t want to end up hating it.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t Steve pulling him in and closing those huge arms around him in the middle of an empty Brooklyn street. Bucky burrows his head into Steve’s chest and they just stand there, holding each other.

“I have complete faith you’ll make the best decision for you. I’m with you either way. I love you, Bucky.”

“You’re such a sap, you know that?”

“I know, but you still love me,” Steve murmurs in his ear.

“Yeah, I do.”

The walk back to the apartment is more relaxed after that, and by the time they reach the door, Bucky is in an entirely different mood. His boyfriend is incredible, and he intends to show him just how much.

He’s barely shut the door when he pulls Steve in by the neck for a hot kiss.

Steve hums like Bucky’s lips are his favorite post-brunch dessert, and it doesn’t take long before they’re pulling of clothing and walking their way over to the couch. When Steve falls back, Bucky climbs onto his lap and straddles him. He reaches out to palm Steve’s half-hard dick and Steve is fully on board now, palming Bucky’s ass and kissing his neck. “You’re gonna have to get up if you want me to give you a suckjob.”

Bucky slaps at his shoulder. “No! I wanna suck _you_ off, Stevie,” Bucky rolls his tongue over Steve's bottom lip. He’s not above using a little manipulation to get what he wants. "I’ve been dreaming about sucking your dick since I was in high school.”

“Bucky!” Steve makes a horrified face.

“It’s true. Are you gonna humor me or what?”

Steve’s face flushes with a familiar pinkish tint. Bucky watches as it spreads out to his ears and down his neck and chest. And isn’t that curious.

“Hey...what is it, Steve?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s just…. before the war I guess I got in the habit of giving. It was something I was good at. Besides, back then there were random raids on queer spots, so we didn’t have a lot of time to exchange favors.”

“After the serum? I know you had to get offers.”

“Yeah, I got offers from some of the USO girls.” Steve shakes his head. “But they were my coworkers; I didn’t want to take advantage. And with the fellas, it was weird. Even though being queer was illegal, there were a bold few who still offered. I outranked all of them, though. I didn’t want to abuse my power, so I turned them down.”

“Damn,” Bucky says in amazement. “So are you trying to tell me you have never had a blow job before?”  
Steve sighs, finally looking Bucky straight in the eye. “I guess not.”

This is kinda blowing Bucky's mind. "This must be corrected, right now," he says with determination.

He moves quickly to drop to his knees before Steve, fiddling with his belt buckle and then pulling down his Dockers and boxers. Steve helps by lifting his hips until everything is at ankles. Steve’s hard cock bobs up, red and hard. Bucky grasps Steve’s length and caresses it with a soft grip. He’s determined to do his best to make Steve’s first blow job amazing. He moves in to place tender wet kisses along the entire length of Steve’s shaft.

“Ah, oh, ah, Bucky, shit,” Steve stutters.

Bucky hums, pleased to hear Steve so affected. He reaches up with his hand to grip Steve’s hip. Steve gasps and runs his hand over Bucky’s head, petting and rubbing him like he has no idea which to settle on.

When Bucky rolls his tongue along the underside of the head of Steve’s cock, he feels the weight of Steve’s upper body collapse over him. Bucky tries to get comfortable as he feels Steve’s face brushing against his back. With Steve bent half way over him and Steve’s dick in his mouth, Bucky feels a blanket of contentment settle into him. In this position he’s completely engulfed in Steve, and he doesn’t want it to end, so he slows down, and returns to giving Steve’s length slow licks and wet kisses.

“Damn, Buck, that feels good, oh,” Steve moans, thrusting gently into Bucky’s mouth.

But Bucky is just getting started. He pushes off and bucks to get Steve to straighten up. Once he does, he orders Steve to sit back.

“Yes, sir,” Steve says with a breathy chuckle, relaxing back onto the couch, his head lolling as he tries to peek down. Bucky grabs the base of that pretty dick and swallows down as much as he can while he breathes through his nose.

Steve chokes out an incoherent sound. Bucky grabs Steve’s left hand and places it on top of his head as Bucky squeezes his cock. To Bucky’s relief, Steve gets the hint and clutches a fistful of Bucky’s hair. It sends a jolt of excitement to Bucky’s dick and he starts grinding against Steve’s leg. When Steve begins to thrust into his mouth, Bucky moans around his cock in approval and wills his throat to relax. Broken gasps fill the room as Steve’s cock breaches the opening of Bucky’s throat.

Bucky goes as far as he can until his nose brushes against blonde pubic hair. When Steve stills, Bucky takes a moment to just enjoy the girth and weight of Steve’s cock. The way it stretches his entire mouth and the tight grip Steve has on his hair gives him a dizzy feeling of contentment. When Steve’s other hand moves to cup the side of his face, stroking his cheek, Bucky swallows down hard, pushing a long, loud moan out of Steve. It’s a heady thing to hear Steve moan like that, and Bucky wants to make him do it again and again.

He slides his hand to Steve’s hip, not so subtly urging Steve to fuck his throat. When Steve starts complying, Bucky takes it all in stride, testing his rusty gag reflex until he can feel the prickle of tears in his eyes. He slurps and sucks until Steve nearly loses it, his hips jerking sporadically. The gasps coming from Steve sound like a warning, like Steve wants to tell him he’s about to come, but can’t form the words. Bucky pulls back a little to check and sees Steve looking down at him in alarm. He’s not sure why until Steve traces the track of tears on Bucky’s cheek. He looks like he’s about to ask if Bucky wants to stop. But Bucky isn’t having it. He simply bats his wet eyelashes, smiles around Steve’s big cock, and pushes his face all the way down, inhaling inches of Steve like before, only this time with more suction.

“Oh shit! Bucky!” Steve cries as his entire body spasms.

Bucky doesn’t let up. He’s gulping around Steve, swallowing everything he’s given until Steve is over sensitive and pushes him back.

Another spasm hits Steve and his left leg jerks. Bucky chuckles. He knows he probably sounds like a smug bastard, but it feels fantastic to know he can take Steve apart like this. Finally, Steve raises his head and looks down at him.

“That was spectacular,” Steve says.

“Yeah?”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Like you don’t know. I’m sure you’ve been complimented on that before.”

Being caught fishing for compliments isn’t nearly as shameful as it should be. There’s a measure of pride Bucky’s not going to try to conceal.

“I may have been told my deep throat technique is debilitating,” he says smugly. “It knocks most guys out of commission for a few hours.”

Steve chuckles, “It was a pretty damn impressive suckjob, Buck, but you forget, I’m Captain America. It’d probably take two of those in a row to put me out of commission.”

He gives a sympathetic shrug and laughs when Bucky growls in frustration.

“One of these days, I promise you, just wait,” Bucky mutters.

“Looking forward to it, but now it’s your turn,” Steve says with a slow drag of his tongue over his bottom lip.

Bucky stands up and unzips his jeans. “Come and get it, Stevie.”

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Steve returns to the Tower the following morning, smiling a little too hard. He knows he should temper it, but he’s too happy to care what other people think. Besides, in a few hours, the reason for his happiness will be plastered on every news site and blog. He’s not naive. He saw all of the camera phones directed at him and Bucky yesterday.

And he’s finally ready to face it. Whatever the press may say, he has Bucky. He’s in love and he has some new friends, too. It’s the first time in this new century he’s felt completely at ease with both parts of himself, and if smiling gives all of that away, so be it.

As soon as he boards the elevator, J.A.R.V.I.S. greets him.

“Welcome back, Captain.”

“Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S.” Steve says.

“Mister Stark has been inquiring about your whereabouts,” the A.I. reports, which sounds a lot like digging for intel to Steve.

He smirks, completely aware everything in the elevator is being recorded. Hell, Stark might even be listening. “That’s funny, I was sure Tony installed a backup tracker on my bike.”

“No, sir, there was just the one,” J.A.R.V.I.S. informs.

Steve clicks his teeth. “Darn, well then it’s a shame I destroyed it last month. You can tell Tony I’m home though.”

“Will do, Captain. I believe the rest of your team is eating together in the cafeteria. Perhaps you would like to join them?"

Steve thinks about how quiet his quarters are going to be and gives a curt nod. “Sure, J.A.R.V.I.S. I’ll join the others.”

“Very good, Captain.”

The elevator opens onto the dining room floor. Steve strides out, full of purpose. The clear glass sliding doors part and he enters, his eyes immediately drawn to the back, where everyone is gathered near the large picture windows. The rest of the dining room is empty, except for Kevin, the Sous chef, who waves and greets him loudly.

“Captain, you’re back! Let me know if you’d like anything in particular.”

“Thanks, Kevin. Actually, a large western omelette with a side of toast and some orange juice would be great,” Steve says.

Kevin beams. “Coming right up! I think I’ll make double for you. I know how you eat!”

Steve chuckles and when he looks forward, the entire table of Avengers are looking back at him.

“Oh wow, Cap, you’re actually here,” Tony says as Steve approaches. “Where’s your Bucky bear?”

Steve tries to temper his irritation before he replies by remembering how hurt Tony looked the last time they interacted. “He’s at home, sleeping,” Steve admits calmly.

There are various small smiles at the confession, and Steve realizes this is the first real Avengers conversation acknowledging Bucky, even though they’ve all met him. Maybe it's been all the changes over the last few days -- being with Bucky around so many people, spending time with Becca and Justin without fighting, knowing there's going to be press coverage about him and not even caring -- but looking at them now, Steve wonders if he's been unfair to them, hiding so much about himself over all this time.

“Okay, listen, guys. I know that I've been hard to reach. I don’t usually invite anyone into my apartment, and I know I can come across as--”

“Distant?” Clint offers.

“Secretive,” Natasha says.

“Aloof?” Bruce says.

“An asshole!” Tony exclaims.

“Not interested in friendship,” Sam says, his jaw working a little too hard around his eggs.

Steve’s heart clenches. He never meant to seem like any of that. He’s supposed to be the leader, and between meetings, missions, training exercises and occasional social gatherings, he thought that the team was getting all they needed from him. Although they often invite him to hang out, Steve always thought they were just being polite or, worse - they felt sorry for him. But now he sees that he was wrong and he remembers what Bucky said, about letting them get to know Steve Rogers.

Just then Kevin comes around with his order. “Bon appetit, Captain."

“Thank you,” Steve says, staring down at his plate. He's no longer really hungry. He forces a forkful of the omelette into his mouth anyway. It gives him a little time to think of what to say, how to mend things. "I'm gonna try to do better," he tells them, and hopes that a promise is better than nothing.

Suddenly, his phone vibrates in his back pocket. An alert ping goes off at the end of the table where Tony is sitting at the same time Marvin Gaye’s voice breaks into song from Sam’s t-shirt pocket. Steve frowns, looking around. Natasha pulls out her phone to silence a melody that sounds an awful lot like the Kill Bill theme. And there an extremely loud stream of noises coming from Clint that remind Steve of the robot R2D2 from the Star Wars.

Steve studies his phone. His Google alerts are stacked with mentions of him from mainstream and tabloid press.

_Steve Rogers’ Secret Life Not So Secret Anymore_

_Captain America Has A Night on the Town with Secret Lover-- A Man_

_Pictures Don’t Lie-- Captain America is Gay_

_Steve Rogers and Local Veteran DJ, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, A Couple?_

_Two Brooklyn Boys Just Hanging Out or Something More?_

 

Steve slowly lifts his eyes, and sees the that everyone is deeply engrossed in reading, and then they’re not. Once again, all eyes are on him.

“Are you really gay though? I always pegged you as bi,” Clint says, his chin in his hand, studying him.

Before Steve can answer, Sam starts talking. “So you took your boy to the Brooklyn Museum. Classy. You got more game than I thought.”

Steve narrows his eyes. That sounded like a backhanded compliment. Now there’s no way he’s telling them the museum was Bucky’s idea.

“Did you dance?” Natasha asks with a knowing smile. “Everyone dances at First Saturdays.”

Steve’s face gets warm. “A little.”

“So the one-armed bandit strikes again,” Tony says. “He’s got you painting, and singing, and now dancing as well? And what’s that stuff on your face?” He turns the large screen of his phone to show the table. It’s a blown up picture of Steve at the street festival. “Is that face paint?”

Bruce is smiling like a proud father. “Sounds like you had a real good time.”

Steve nods, unable to fully mask the satisfaction and feeling of contentment he’s feeling. “Yeah, we had a great time.”

“So, it’s out now...” Tony says.

“Did you know this would break?” Bruce asks.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much. I knew the second Bucky and I ventured out in public it would inevitably show up somewhere.”

“Steve!”

Every head whips around as Pepper marches in, more hurried than usual, but somehow still graceful.

“I just heard,” she says before she even reaches the table. “Me and Maria are on it. You can do an interview when you’re ready. You don’t have to make a statement now, but if you want to make one, we’ll help you craft it.”

“And Bucky?” Steve asks, because that’s really his only concern about all of this.

“We got eyes on the ground. We already put two agents on him, his sister, and her boyfriend, at least until things blow over.”

Steve frowns. “When?”

Pepper glances to Natasha, who looks away.

Steve raises his eyebrows looking between them. “When?”

“A while ago,” Pepper admits.

Steve covers his face and then straightens as he considers what that means. “So Bucky, Becca, and Justin are safe.”

Pepper nods, a hopeful look in her eyes like she wants his approval. That’s a strange look on her. Steve feels obliged to reassure her.

“Thank you, Pepper….and Natasha,” he said, giving her meaningful look.

“So what do you want to do?” Pepper asks.

Steve looks around the table and back at Pepper. “Um, I think I wanna talk it out with the team. Get their opinions before we try to move forward.”

There’s stunned silence -- and then an explosion of voices as they all talk at once. Pepper shakes her head at Steve like this was the worst idea ever, and maybe it was, but Steve can’t help but laugh. They’re all so invested and opinionated about his personal life. Bucky was right - these aren’t just his teammates, they’ve been his friends all along.

“Guys! Hey, settle down….not here,” Steve says. “There’s only one appropriate place to hold a strategic PR meeting about my love life.”

They all stare at him in confusion and wariness, and it breaks Steve’s heart a little bit. It’s time to end the separation between between Captain America and Steve Rogers.

“Let’s head up to my apartment and order some takeout.”

Several smiles break out around the table, and there’s a new buzz of energy between all of them.

“Wow, okay, if Cap is having a party, I’m bringing the drinks,” Tony says, already on his feet.

Steve throws up his hands. “I didn’t say anything about a party, Tony. This is a serious discussion.”

“You never invite anyone inside your humble abode, except for maybe Sam.” Sam shrugs but there’s a little smile on his face. “We are officially off the clock and it’s a gathering in your private residence of more than three people. That’s a party, Cap!” Tony shouts as he walks backwards towards the door. “Don’t try to stop it. Whiskey or Rum?”

“I don’t drink, Tony!” Steve calls.

“Okay, rum it is! See you in ten!”

“I guess that means I’m bringing the popcorn,” Clint says, rising from his seat.

“Uh, do you like hummus? I have tons of it,” Bruce asks, already standing.

“Sure,” Steve replies slowly.

“Oh, and pita bread! I’ll bring that too,” Bruce adds over his shoulder as he walks away.

“I’m bringing my ipod!” Sam announces.

Steve frowns. “I have plenty of music.”

The skeptical look on Sam’s face is almost funny. “You’ve been singing karaoke,” he says matter-of-factly. “There’s no telling how warped your music tastes are now. I ain’t taking any chances.”

“We’re supposed to be discussing my PR strategy,” Steve says in exasperation.

“And we will,” Sam says, backing up towards the exit. “Then we’re going to play Mario Kart, and top the evening off with Netflix. Do you have extra pillows? Nevermind, I’ll bring pillows,” Sam says as he makes his exit.

“Pillows? Sam, this isn’t a sleepover!” Steve protests.

“Just go with it, Steve,” Natasha says with a smirk as she stands up. “Live a little. I’ll bring the blankets, and some better snacks.”

“Seriously?” Steve says, looking up to Pepper who just holds out her arms like she’s given up.

“Steve…” she says, wincing.

“Yeah, Pepper?” he asks warily.

“Um, what kind of non-alcoholic beverages do you have?” she asks. “I can bring some Pellegrino, the lemon flavored kind.”

Steve gives a surprised huff. “Uh, sure, Pepper. That sounds great.”

Her smile is proud, like she’s glad he’s coming around. “See you soon. Oh, and should I invite Maria, too?”

“Sure, why not?” Steve says. He doesn’t want anyone to feel like they weren’t invited. “Hey, Kevin,” Steve calls.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Would you mind if I put in a order for a party platter?”

Kevin claps his hands and nods. “Yes, Captain. Just tell me what you’d like and when you need it by.”

“Well, I need it in about twenty minutes,” Steve says, wincing. “And I trust your judgement.”

Then Steve sprints back to his place to clean up. He’s relieved to find that it’s pretty well maintained, probably because he hasn’t been home in days.

In the spirit of the ‘party’, he changes into a t-shirt and sweats as well. When he comes back out to his living room, he looks around and realizes that anyone who wants to come inside will have to stand outside and wait until Steve clears them.

Steve takes a moment to reconsider his security protocols and how he requested Tony to disable J.A.R.V.I.S for his private residence and all his private devices when he moved in., Essentially, he's inaccessible to his team. If he allows unmitigated access maybe they’ll test the boundaries or even cross them, but he hasn’t even given them the chance to respect them. Even Natasha’s private quarters aren’t that tightly guarded.

He walks out the front door and stands at the elevator to call the A.I. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I’d like to change my security protocols so that anyone from the team, including Pepper and Maria, can have entry into my private quarters if needed.”

“Very well, Captain, I will enact those protocols right away. This will require me to have additional access...”

“What do you mean additional access?” Steve asks. “I told Tony to disable you completely.”

“Yes, sir, but the Tower’s safety and security protocols override my complete removal. I still control the fire alarms, fire suppression system, all doors, and security monitoring outside your apartment. So you could say I have always been in your residence, but at your request I was unable to communicate with you or provide you full service.”

It sounds oddly familiar. Steve swallows as it hits him how those words could have been said by anyone on his team. He doubts Bucky even knows all the ways he’s made Steve a better man. Steve plans to tell him, but first he has show his team, his friends, how much they mean to him.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. you have my permission to reconnect to my apartment. It’d be nice to hear your voice in there.”

“Thank you, sir. I will do so right away.”

Steve smiles and returns to his apartment. Ten minutes later, Sam just walks through his front door. He has a pile of pillows in a giant laundry bag and a bag of chips in his mouth. He opens his mouth and drops the chips on the kitchen table.

“Dude! Did you change your security protocols? I just walked in!”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. You guys now have full access.”

“Oh shit!” Sam says, letting go of the laundry bag to walk up to Steve with a hand extended. Steve takes his hand, but pulls Sam in and he hears the surprised laugh next to his ear as they embrace.

When Sam pulls back, he’s grinning all teeth, and there’s a brightness to his eyes Steve hasn’t seen lately. “Sam, I wanna apologize for how distant I’ve been. I--”

Sam just waves him off. “Stop. What we’re doing now? This right here, and your new security protocols? We’re good, man. But I want you to know, that no matter what you thought about our friendship, you were never just Captain America to me.”

Steve bites his lip, overcome with emotion. “Thanks, Sam. I haven’t had much practice, but I’m going to try to be a better friend.”

Sam slaps his bicep. “Good. Just remember that when I invite you out to a play or for a jog in a new place. No more dodging.”

It’s as if a weight has been lifted from Steve’s chest as he nods in agreement. “No more dodging.”

The front door opens again, and Clint walks in with what can only be described as a case of microwavable popcorn.

“I hope you got butter, Cap,” Clint says. “I mean this is the extra buttered kind, but you can never have too much butter. Whoa! Is that graffiti?” Clint exclaims as he gapes at the exposed brick decorated with the graffiti painting of Steve’s mother.

Steve runs his hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m here so the party has officially started,” Tony says as he walks in. “And wow, you changed your security protocols. Good job, Cap.” Behind him are two college-aged interns with a full cart of liquor, juice, and ice cubes. “Just set it over there,” Tony says, pointing to the kitchen. “And if anything goes wrong in the lab while I’m gone, don’t call me. Tell J.A.R.V.I.S. and I’ll assess the damage and hand out pink slips tomorrow.”

The young men pale.

“Just joking! Geez, lighten up. Young people today, ha!” he says gesturing to their retreating backs.

Steve shakes his head. “Tony, I don’t know who this liquor is for.”

“Everyone,” Tony says extending his arms. “Even you. I know you say you can’t get drunk, but I make a mean strawberry daiquiri that will have you chugging it down like juice.”

“Hit me up,” Sam says, rubbing his hands together as he looks down at the drink cart.

Tony smiles wide. “Coming right up.”

Natasha arrives next with an armful of folded blankets and a rolling cart in tow, and Steve finds it oddly adorable. She pushes the blankets into his arms. “My contribution. You can keep them for next time.”

Steve’s about to open his mouth to tell her there probably won’t be a next time, but then who knows? This could become a regular Avenger thing. He puts the blankets down by the couch and then Bruce, Pepper, and Maria show up together. Pepper has huge recyclable bag of flavored water, Bruce has his pita chips and hummus, and Maria has a bottle of champagne, which she raises to his face.

“Thought we’d have a toast to celebrate your coming out...among other things,” she says with a sly smile, glancing around at the others.

Everyone is either getting a drink from Tony or walking around, taking in the art like they’re in a gallery.

“Oh Steve, this is gorgeous!” Pepper says, her eyes fixed on the abstract painting of Brooklyn on the far wall. “Who’s the artist?”

“Uh, that would be me…” Steve says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

The talking ceases and everyone stares at him like he grew another head.

Clint puts a hand to his heart. “Aww, Cap, you draw? Is the graffiti yours too?”

Steve nods.

“Jesus,” Natasha says, staring at the picture. “What else have you been hiding?”

“Told you!” Tony calls. “Cap’s secrets have secrets. Next he’s gonna tell us he’s a Master Chef.”

Steve laughs. “Nope. Sorry to say, but I can’t really cook for shit, Tony.”

“Whew!” Sam says, wiping his brow dramatically. “Good, ‘cause you were starting to give me a complex, Mr. Renaissance Man.”

Tony is still studying him.

“What?” Steve asks warily.

“The cursing thing,” he says, waving his hand over Steve’s general profile. ”I like it. Gives you a kind of a boy-next-door meets rugged-hero thing.”

“I don’t know,” Pepper says, wrinkling her nose.

An argument breaks out between Pepper and Tony about whether Steve should curse or not, while Sam starts pitching an idea of Steve teaching an art class for the Harlem VA. As the arguments devolve into what kind of classes each of them could teach in a Professors for a Day charity event, Steve looks around at the friends in his apartment and smiles. Now that he has it, he wouldn't trade this life for anything.

  

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

A few hours, a lot of drinks, and a lot of laughter later, they come up with a plan. Maria's going to set up an interview with Robin Roberts in the morning so Steve can officially come out as bisexual, and Steve's going to invite Bucky to come. If he can't make it, he'll understand, but he can't help but feel like this thing's gonna be a lot easier to tackle together.

The Avengers have fallen asleep on the floor in the middle of a marathon of Parks and Rec , and Steve looks among them, exhausted and fond. After a few days away, he definitely wants to sleep in his own bed. He sneaks out between them, but halfway down the hall he pulls out his phone and shoots Bucky a message.

 **Steve** : Had a heart to heart with the team aka my friends. Have you checked the news? I've got an interview tomorrow to try and get out ahead of it.

 **Bucky** : How could I not? It’s everywhere. I’m so sorry, Steve, it’s all my fault. I've been trying to find time to get a message off to you all night but it's been nuts. I underestimated how much people would care about your love life. You were right to be cautious.

 **Steve** : Buck, never, EVER, apologize to me about what the press does. I’m so damn proud to be your boyfriend. I want to tell the world to eat their hearts out

 **Bucky** : God, you’re a total cornball :D And I love it.

 **Steve** : Love it enough to help me tell the world about us?

Steve’s phone starts ringing as he closes his bedroom door.

“Hey,” Steve says in a hushed voice.

“Oh my god, this is really happening,” Bucky says. He sounds exhilarated and nervous, like a man at the top of a rollercoaster.

“Yeah, Buck, it is. They um, set me up to do an exclusive interview tomorrow with Robin Roberts of Good Morning America.”

“Oh shit!”

“And...I don’t want you to feel obligated but if you want to….I’d love to have you join me.”

“I’m in,” Bucky says with quick surety. “Just...can you make sure they don’t ask me too many questions about my arm?”

Steve smiles and his shoulders relax. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll tell Maria that’s off the table. So it’s tomorrow at 9am.”

Bucky groans. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you? You know I don’t wake up before 2pm.”

“Well then I guess you better get a good night’s sleep then,” Steve says in his Captain America voice.

Bucky groans. “You’re such a punk. Anyway, um, is it alright if Becca and Justin come too?”

“Definitely. I want them to be there,” Steve says. “I’ve already invited the team just for moral support. I don't think it'll get ugly -- Robin Roberts is gay, so the interview will be fine. But you never know...”

“Stevie, we’re about to be front page news,” Bucky says like it’s just occurred to him.

“Hate to break it to you, pal, but we already are,” Steve says. “But you’re right, after tomorrow’s interview, we’re probably going to be in the news for awhile. You ready, Buck? If you’re having second thoughts---”

“Steve.”

“Yes?”

“Shut the hell up. I love you, you dork. And no matter what the press or some randos on the internet say, I’m sticking it out with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Steve’s heart does a weird little flip. He actually grips his chest and closes his eyes. “Me too, Buck. ‘Til the end of the line. I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow, Stevie,” Bucky says a little breathless.

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

It's been a long, strange morning. Steve woke up at 5am with the sun, unable to fall back to sleep. Unable to keep his energy down, he snuck out of his own apartment between the sleeping bodies and run in Central Park -- all by himself, face out to the world, feeling like this city is his for the first time this century. He filled up on omelettes in the cafeteria and met Maria in the parkade, and then he and Bucky found each other backstage, beaming and nervous, while Lauren and Wendy did their makeup and gushed.

Now they're sitting on the set of _Good Morning America_ , flanked by friends in the wings. It's much easier to be facing Robin Roberts and all of American when they know Justin, Becca, and all the Avengers are on standby to cheer them on.

“Good morning,” Robin says to the camera. “We’re back at the top of the hour with an exclusive with Captain America himself, Steve Rogers, and his new boyfriend, former Green Beret Sergeant and local celebrity DJ, James “Bucky” Barnes. Gentlemen, welcome. So glad you could join us.”

“Thank you, glad to be here,” Steve says.

“Thank you,” Bucky says.

“So, you two basically broke the internet yesterday when photos surfaced of you painting Brooklyn red,” Robin says. Steve and Bucky look at each other and smile. “When did _this_ happen?” Robin asks, extending her arms. “How did you two meet?”

This time when Steve looks at Bucky, there’s a devilish glint in his boyfriend’s eyes. Steve gulps and Bucky’s smile goes feral.

“Karaoke,” Bucky says simply, and Steve folds his face in his free hand and groans.

Robin laughs. “What? Are you telling me this guy right here, Captain America, sings karaoke?”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says. He sounds like he's enjoying this. Steve starts to wonder where all that nervous energy from earlier went, because Bucky looks confident now, like someone who’s given a million interviews. “Robin, let me tell you - this guy loves to sing.”

Steve just shakes his head and smiles while his face burns. He squeezes Bucky's hand a little harder and Bucky laughs out an ‘oww’.

“So what’s the story here?” Robin prods. “Steve walked into a bar while you’re DJing?”

Bucky nods. “Yep. And not just once; he kept coming back again and again. Finally I was like, ‘hey, do you want my number or what?’ And we just started talking and here we are.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. Wow, Bucky has this whole spin thing down. That is technically what happened.

Robin is smiling hard. “I love it! So, Steve, what kind of songs do you sing when you perform karaoke? Modern or the classic tunes from your time?”

“I guess you can say my musical tastes run pretty eclectic,” Steve replies. “I’m starting to see cyclical patterns in what I hear. There’s a lot of variations of the old stuff in modern music. So I really like all of it.”

“Interesting,” Robin says, looking completely enthralled. “Have you ever considered running a blog or becoming a music critic? I bet a lot of people would be interested in reading your perspective on pop culture.”

Steve laughs and glances at Bucky. “Uh, no. I haven’t, but that’s an interesting idea.”

“I keep telling him, he’s underusing his talents,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “This guy is a jack of all trades.”

Robin laughs. “Oh really? Well I suppose it takes one to know one. I hear you’re pretty multi-talented as well.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and smirks smugly at Bucky, who is squirming in his seat a little. “Who, me? Nah, I mostly just DJ and tease Steve here. Those are my main talents.”

“Well, that may be true. But along with being funny and charming, you’re also a highly decorated war hero.”

The smile on Bucky’s face shrinks, but he nods amicably. Steve gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You served as a sniper and Green Berets’ Weapons Sergeant before you were honorably discharged with a number of commendations, including a Distinguished Service Cross. And in the year since you left service, you’ve managed to create your own distinctive Karaoke business. On top of that, you have been featured in the _New York Times, Time Out New York, and VFW Magazine._ ”

Steve smiles, pride bursting at the seams for Bucky. Now it's him who looks like he wants to hide his face in his hands.

“Thanks,” Bucky says.

Robin leans in. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, but you have to know everyone is dying to know the guy who stole Captain America’s heart.”

Bucky ducks his head and then nods. “Yeah, I understand.”

“And it’s my job to make it clear to the folks at home that you’re no slouch. I mean, my goodness, James, you’re quite impressive in your own right.”

Bucky glances to Steve like he wants to sink into the floor. Steve decides to forego the practiced script and lean over to give Bucky a kiss on lips.

Robin cooes and covers her mouth. Steve can hear Tony’s distinctive ‘Jesus Christ’ just beyond the cameraman.

“It’s no wonder the internet is obsessed with you two,” Robin continues. “On paper, you’re a perfect match, but I have to say after watching the way you interact in person, the love is real folks. You can feel the chemistry. Steve, tell me, what drew you to James, initially?”

Steve sighs, staring at those ice blue eyes that bring him comfort. “Where do I start? Bucky is an amazing man. He’s smart, funny, kind, strong, and he’s really great at what he does. If you ever get an opportunity to see him DJ, I highly recommend it. What he does on stage is magical.”

“I bet,” Robin says with a smile. “And it doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty easy on the eyes either.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Steve’s the hot one.”

A surprised laugh has Steve covering his mouth. “Bucky…”

“You two are absolutely adorable. Now Steve, I know you aren’t a big fan of giving interviews, and our last conversation generated a lot of negative press for you. You and I talked a bit on the phone last night so I know why coming here is so important to you. Would you mind sharing what you told me with everyone here?”

Steve nods and he glances up at Bucky, whose brow is creased in concern.

“Yes, thank you, Robin. The past few months have been some of the best and worst for me since I woke up in the 21st century. There’s been a lot of things said about my private life, or lack of one. When I met Bucky, I honestly had given up on any attempt at cultivating a real life outside of being Captain America.”

Steve can feel Bucky squeeze his hand and he gives him a small smile.

“I’m here today because I met someone who showed me that it’s okay to be myself, and that being who I am doesn’t have to be exclusive to my role as Captain America. Now the press may pick apart my personal life and speculate how it affects my ability to lead the Avengers, but I came here to tell anyone who feels like they have to give up everything to fit someone’s expectations, that you don’t have to. If you’re out there and struggling with being yourself, just let go of those expectations and embrace who you are, and if people don’t like it, then surround yourself with people who will appreciate you for you.”

Robin cocks her head and nods. “And tell us, Steve, who are you?”

Steve is aware of the cameraman moving in, but this time it doesn’t feel like the room is caving in on him. The sky’s the limit. He looks right into the camera with a cocksure smile.

“I am Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, leader of the Avengers. I am bisexual, I love performing karaoke, I paint, the Dodgers are still my favorite team, and I am in love with this man sitting right next to me.”

When he looks back at Bucky, there’s nothing but adoration on his face and he only has a second warning before Bucky is kissing him fiercely, on national television.

“I love you too, Stevie,” Bucky says against his lips.

“Wow, wow, wow! That was powerful,” Robin says. “I think you just set the bar on being a role model and being romantic.”

Steve blushes and shakes his head.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, tell me Steve, what’s next for the Avengers? Are you guys still on the Global Outreach tour?”

Steve looks over to where Maria is standing and see her make a cutting motion across her throat.

“Uh, no, not right now. A number of recent incidents have stalled that particular initiative. We may start it back up again soon...”

Robin turns to look in the direction of the standing audience area. “Oh there they are! Hey, get a shot of them…”

The cameraman turns the camera onto the Avengers. Tony puffs out his chest, Sam smiles and waves, Clint points finger guns, and Bruce gives a small smile but looks very uncomfortable. Maria’s face is neutral, but Steve can tell she’s annoyed, while Pepper smiles beside her.

“And -- a couple of fresh faces, too. Is that your sister, James?” Robin asks, pointing towards Becca.

Bucky nods. “Yeah, that’s my baby sister, Becca. She’s here with my former Communications Sergeant, Justin. They’re the other two thirds of Shining Star Karaoke.”

“Hi guys,” Robin says with a smile. “What do you think of James dating Captain America?”

The cameraman closes in on Becca and Justin, both redder than Steve has ever seen them. One of the producers hands Becca a microphone.

“I think it’s awesome - for Steve. He got pretty lucky,” she says with a cheeky grin.

Everyone laughs, including Steve and Bucky.

“I see the humor runs in the family,” Robin says.

Bucky nods. “Yeah, definitely.”

Robin smiles with approval as she looks at the both of them. “Well, I wish you guys the best of luck, and I hope this won’t be the last we see of you two.”

“We’d love to come back sometime,” Steve says, and really means it.

Bucky’s grip grows tight and Steve looks at him to see what’s wrong.

“Uh, Robin,” Bucky says, his voice a bit shaky. “Before you go to the commercial, I have an announcement.”

Robin’s eyes pop and she dramatically grips her seat. “You’re not proposing, are you?”

“No, no!" Bucky shakes his head vehemently. "We’re not there yet.”

“Yet! You hear him?” Robin asks, pointing at Steve.

Bucky clears his throat. “I, uh, just want to tell everyone that Blink 182 is sponsoring a celebrity karaoke event to raise money for DAV - the Disabled American Veterans- Charitable Service Trust. The event will be taped next weekend, and there are links on the website so people at home can donate. There will even be a bidding contest this week so TV viewers can place a bid on songs they want to hear celebrities sing.”

“Oh my, can we come too?” Robin asks.

Bucky laughs. “I’m not sure how that works. But since I’m DJing for the event, I’m pretty sure I can get you in.”

Steve gasps. He can hear Becca clapping and Justin shouting ‘yes!’ in the background.

“Really?” Steve asks him, leaning in with a smile.

Bucky grins back. “Yes.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun. I’m there!” Robin says. “Thank you guys, it was a blast having you here today and we wish both of you the best.”

She turns to another camera. “Up next, we have your weather, some cool refreshing summer recipes, and a clip from Diane Sawyer’s upcoming exclusive interview with Deadpool. She’ll be talking to the masked man many are calling the anti-Avenger hero and she’ll answer the burning question: Is he friend or foe? Stay tuned for more with Good Morning America after this commercial break.”

The lights dim a little, and Robin comes out of her seat to hug Bucky like she’s known him all of her life. “Such a pleasure to meet you. You take care of Steve, you hear? He’s special.”

Steve smiles as they embrace. “Thank you for everything, Robin.”

“Oh anytime. And I’m serious about those tickets! I think I want to sing something,” she says, looking at Bucky.

“I got you,” Bucky says.

“Great, see you two later.” As a producer escorts her to another stage on the set, Steve turns to Bucky and hugs him so hard that Bucky groans.

“Stevie, you’re gonna break me.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, finally letting go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky bites his bottom lip. “‘Cause I just decided last night, and I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“What made you change your mind?” Steve asks.

“You.” Bucky says it with such intense conviction it knocks some of the wind out of Steve. “All of this. I’m tired of being afraid, Stevie. You took a chance on us, even though you were afraid being out might ruin things. I figured I could do the same with this celebrity gig. At least I can give it a chance and see where it goes. I won’t ever find out if I don’t try, right?”

Steve nods and presses his forehead to Bucky’s. “Right.”

“Anyway, you big ole sap, enough about that. We’ve got people waiting for us,” Bucky says, gesturing to the standing audience area. Becca is still bouncing on her heels and Justin is grinning.

“Oh, Bucky!” Becca cries.

Steve watches on as they all embrace in a tight circle, not realizing that his own friends are forming one around him.

“That was pretty smooth, Cap,” Tony says. “You and Buckmeister practically have the entire country eating out of your hands right now. Just watch the PDA, scale it back a bit. They love you today, but as soon as your sex tape drops, they’ll bring out the torches.”

Pepper groans and covers Tony’s mouth, and then shoots a smile to Steve. “You did great out there.”

“Yeah, really well done, Steve,” Maria says. “Even the impromptu Global Initiative answer.”

“I’m really proud of you, Steve,” Bruce says, gripping Steve’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

“Hey man, that went really well,” Sam says, pulling Steve into a loose embrace that ends with a firm pat on the back. “Almost had me tearing up.”

“Steve,” Natasha says, making him turn around. “You looked good, and so did Bucky.” She’s sporting a rare genuine smile that warms Steve’s heart.

 As he looks around at his friends and team standing next to Bucky, Becca, and Justin, Steve knows he made the right decision.

“Hey,” he says, and they all settle down to look at him. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. Lunch is on me.”

“Nope, I’m paying,” Tony says, already walking away. “In the mood for some shawarma. Let’s do Istanbul Kebab House.”

“King of Falafel & Shawarma is better,” Clint argues as the rest of the team follows.

“I’m paying so, we’re doing Istanbul,” Tony calls back.

Steve groans. Bucky wraps his arm around his waist as they watch as Becca and Justin fall in step with Sam and Natasha.

“That was great, what you said about being yourself, and me,” Bucky says, brushing his cheek against Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve rests his head against Buckys. “No, thank you for changing my life for the better.”

Bucky squeezes his arm around him and sighs. “We better catch up.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. One question though…”

“What?” Bucky asks lifting his head.

“Can you get me on the list to sing at the Blink 182 event?”

Bucky laughs. “Oh hell yes.”

 

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Bucky’s hands are sweating and he can’t stand still. He might just pace a hole into the smooth marble floor of The Good Room night club. Since coming out as Steve’s boyfriend on national TV, he’s been bombarded with emails, phone calls, and invitations, but he’s adjusted to the attention with relative ease. He’s getting used to seeing his name and his picture splashed on tabloid and sometimes mainstream news magazines. It doesn’t even creep him out that there are now several fan clubs and fan websites dedicated to following his every move. Surprisingly, none of that was unsettling as he once thought it might be. He’s even getting used to his security detail, as invisible as they’re supposed to be, and he, Becca, and Justin already have named those guys Cheech and Chong. It’s only been two weeks since he became famous, and all in all, Bucky’s handling it pretty well.

What he’s not handling so well is being the featured DJ for the Blink 182 Celebrity Karaoke event. When he called the organizers to tell them he would be joining the DJ roster, they were ecstatic. But after the Good Morning America interview, all advertising for the celebrity gig was changed to feature Bucky’s name as the primary DJ. While DeShaun gave him a pat on the back and congratulated him, Bucky is still not comfortable with it, especially since he was so late in confirming his attendance.

But it’s too late for second guesses. The day of the event has finally arrived. Becca and Justin corner Bucky, asking him questions they already know the answers to - have you checked the sound? How’s the monitor? Do we have enough playbooks? Let’s test the lights one more time.

The Good Room has a fancy LED lightning system that Bucky’s only dreamed of and it’s sort of complicated. The venue also has five thousand square feet of dance space, two huge dance rooms, and a rooftop. The organizers placed Bucky in the biggest dance room, where there’s a gigantic disco ball and leather lining the booth walls. DeShaun is on the roof for those who want a more intimate experience, and Bucky sort of wishes they could trade places.

“Hey man, I’m so glad you agreed to do this,” DeShaun says, walking up to the stage to give Bucky his standard half-hug handshake.

“I’m glad you nudged me about it,” Bucky says. “I needed a kick in the ass for dragging my feet.”

DeShaun smiles. “No problem. You know I’m a professional ass-kicker.”

“Eh, more like a professional ass.”

Chuckling, DeShaun gives Bucky a light shove, but his expression drops in seconds. “Ah, shit.”

Bucky frowns and looks to see what caused that reaction. “What?”

DeShaun points to a stiff-looking pale man with his nose in the air, walking toward the stairs. “That’s the dude I was telling you about - Jennifer Lopez’s pain in the ass assistant. Man, he’s been a thorn in my side since he got here. He’s probably going up there right now to ask me another dumbass question. Ah well, I better get back,” he says, walking off stage. “Have a good show, and rock this motherfucker out! I’ll catch you later tonight.”

“Later,” Bucky says and glances towards the front. There are more celebrity assistants and private security details sniffing around, making sure they know the layout.

Bucky makes a fist to crack his knuckles.

“Bucky, relax, you got this,” Becca says, squeezing his shoulder.

He nods and checks in with the system again. It's a complicated beast, and one slip-up could end being played on loop on Youtube or, god forbid, entertainment news.

“Do you have any Billie Holiday?” a familiar deep voice asks.

Bucky’s head jerks up. Steve’s standing on the dance floor in front of the DJ booth, wearing a pair of flattering black slacks and royal blue button up that really brings out his eyes.

“For you? Definitely,” Bucky says. His breathing eases up already. Bucky hopes he stays there all night.

“You look great up there,” Steve says, walking around to take the steps to the stage. He grabs Bucky’s hand and pulls him away from the DJ booth. Bucky crashes into him, laying his head on Steve’s broad shoulder and soaking up the comfort that comes with those strong arms wrapped around him.

“What if I fuck this up?” he whispers.

“You won’t,” Steve says. “This is what you do, Bucky. Forget about the cameras, forget about the celebrities. Focus on the music. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky lifts his head and looks at Steve’s dreamy baby blues and nods. “You’re gonna sing, right?”

Steve smiles. “Of course.”

Bucky glances at the huge space looking digital clock on the wall and his stomach lurches. “Tell me what song you want, I’ll put it in now. Things are gonna get really busy soon.”

Steve smirks. “Oh, um, I’ll put it in later.”

“Steve!” Bucky whines. “I can’t show favoritism. Give me your song now.”

But Steve is already walking down the steps. “Later, Buck. Promise.”

Bucky shakes his head, and then he sees Sam, Natasha, Clint, Tony, Pepper, Maria, and Pepper in the shadows, just beyond the dance floor, crowded in two booths near the wall.

“Hey guys!” Becca calls.

“Hey! Looking good, Buckaroo!” Tony shouts. He hates that nickname. Bucky really does want to strangle that guy sometimes.

“Are you guys gonna sing?” Bucky asks. “I can put your songs in now.”

Bruce shakes his head. “I don’t know," says Tony. "Maybe. Maybe not. Tell you what, Buckmeister, just hold a spot for me."

“Not really my thing,” Natasha says. “Just here to support you and Steve.”

“Just here for the food,” Sam says.

“I’m here to watch,” Clint calls.

Bucky chuckles and goes back to checking his mix selections for the warm up and dance breaks, oddly at ease to know they're there anyway.

Ten minutes later, the band members of Blink-182 arrive, followed by more celebrities and their entourages. They all give brief interviews on the red carpet outside. As they begin to take their seats in reserved booths, Becca discreetly slaps Justin’s arm everytime she recognizes someone. Bucky starts mixing music in order to set the vibe for the night.

Straight away, he notices that most of the celebrities are native New Yorkers, and many are Brooklynites. As Becca points out, there’s Puff Daddy, Anne Hathaway, Jimmy Kimmel, Lana Del Rey, 50 Cent, Spike Lee, Seinfeld, Chris Rock, and Alicia Keys. Bucky’s inner fanboy screams when Cyndi Lauper waves to him. He manages to keep his cool and he waves back like it's perfectly normal to wave to one of your earliest crushes. Bucky’s switching over to his third song when Lady Gaga rises from her booth and extends a hand to Lil’ Kim. They start dancing right next to Bucky’s DJ booth. It causes a chain reaction, and soon the disco ball reflects a sea of glittered and designer dressed bodies swaying in the strobe light. It’s incredible and Bucky can’t quite believe this is his life.

When Jay-Z and Madonna show, all hell breaks loose. Carson Daly starts working his way through the crowd, interviewing everyone, and amping up anticipation. Justin has been keeping track of everyone’s requests and consulting with Bucky about the line up, and Bucky feels confident everything’s ready to go.

What he’s not prepared for is Carson coming up to the stage and interviewing him about the event.

Becca takes over DJing as Carson pulls Bucky to the side. “Bucky Barnes! Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Carson,” Bucky says. He glances back at Becca, silently begging to switch places.

“When it comes to karaoke, you’re legendary!”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“Well, it's true. Now, for a lot of celebs and even people at home, karaoke is a foreign concept. People are scared to try it. Do you have any advice for newbies who want to try it or even for veterans who want to give a good performance?”

“There’s only one rule for doing karaoke right,” Bucky says. “Have a good time. Gotta keep it fun.”

Carson nods. “Well, we’re certainly going to do that tonight. Bucky, are you ready to get started?”

Bucky gives a thumbs up.

“Alright everyone,” Carson says, turning to face the nearest camera. “If you’re tuning in right now, you have caught the start to an exciting evening. We are coming to you from Brooklyn, New York.”

Bucky waves on the crowd at the mention of Brooklyn, and he gets a roar of cheers in response.

Carson laughs. “Wow, alright, Brooklyn’s in the house. And we’re at the 1st Annual Blink 182 Celebrity Karaoke Charity Event for DAV - the Disabled American Veterans- Charitable Service Trust. Now let me explain how you, the viewer, can get involved….”

By the time Carson has done his spiel for the TV viewing audience and left the stage, Bucky is settled and in his comfort zone. It’s time. He turns the music down and ramps up his ear microphone.

“How’s everyone out there feel?” he shouts.

The crowd, celebrities, entourage, and the fortunate few who won tickets holler and wave their hands enthusiastically. Bucky laughs. He hopes one of the cameras on stage is getting this view of this show, because it’s incredible from his vantage.

“Great because we’re gonna get this party started,” he says, flashing a smile. “If you’re here to have a good time, let me hear you say ‘hell yeah’!”

“Hell yeah!” the floor shouts.

“Now there’s a few people here who have partied with us before, so they understand how we do this,” he says, looking directly at Steve, who gives a loud wolf whistle. Bucky grins. “I need the karaoke veterans who know how we get down to help the newbies. So let’s educate them. When someone comes up to the mic to sing, how should we greet them?”

“Sing that shit!” Steve shouts.

Bucky’s heart soars. His stupid hot boyfriend is so committed to supporting him that he’s standing on the seat of his booth with his hands cupped around his mouth to shout profanities in spite of his wholesome image.

“What’s that, Steve?” Bucky asks, placing his hand behind his ear and leaning forward. “How do we greet a karaoke singer?” 

“Sing that shit!” Steve shouts again.

The room bursts into laughter and wild applause. Bucky watches the shocked expressions of all of the Avengers as they gape back at Steve like he’s lost his mind.

“Everyone got that?” Bucky asks the crowd.

“Yeah!” they all reply.

“Also, if you like the song, feel free to sing along. Tonight, we’re all friends and we’re all doing this for a great cause. So let’s get started. First up to the microphone is the one and only, Miss Anne Hathaway who will be singing some LMFAO!”

Anne Hathaway blows the crowd away, and it opens the floodgates. There’s a steady line of requests and Bucky is invigorated by each performance. The crowd seems to enjoy what he’s doing and he even gets to do a duet with Jon Bon Jovi.

When he finally starts a dance break mix, Becca pulls on his arm.

“What?

“Maybe it’s time you take a break?” she suggests.

Bucky scoffs. “Becca, are you serious? I’m not taking a break. The cameras are still rolling.”

Becca frowns. “Bucky, you’re soaked with sweat. Just take a ten minute break, go wipe your face, and have some water, okay?”

Justin seems to agree because he’s giving Bucky the ‘you look like you stink’ look, and Bucky briefly panics about his image.“Okay, fine. 10 minutes. The mix is already set, you don’t have to do anything.”

Becca rolls her eyes. “I got it, big brother. Now go. Bathroom, and water.”

Bucky nods, and then hops off stage. He gets a lot of back pats and handshakes on his way to the bathroom, and all he can think is that he must look really gross.

He takes care of business in the bathroom, but when he gets to the mirror, he’s shocked to see that he’s not really that sweaty. He actually looks pretty sexy, if he says so himself. What the hell was Becca talking about?

Irritated, he goes to the bar and asks for a bottled water. While the bartender goes to fetch it, he looks over at the Avengers’ booth for Steve. But he only sees Sam, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Pepper, Tony, and Maria. There’s no sign of his boyfriend’s cropped blonde hair or Dorito shape.

Bucky frowns and looks around the dance floor. It’s pretty packed. Finally, the bartender hands him his water. “Hey, you’re really good. This is fun,” the guy says.

Bucky smiles. “Thanks. You should put in a song.”

The bartender shrugs. “Maybe I will.”

The music grows softer, and Bucky’s head whips around to the stage. He sees Becca fiddling with the controls. Panic blooms as he wonders what the hell she’s doing. Then she’s picking up the microphone and Justin is standing close to her side. This was not a part of their plan. Bucky is torn between rushing to the stage and watching in horror to see how exactly this will unfold.

“Hi everyone, um, we’re going to get started again. Next on the microphone, we have someone near and dear to the the DJ’s heart. Please give it up for Steve Rogers!”

Bucky gasps as Steve comes from around the stage, a microphone already in his hand.

“Hello everyone.”

The crowd murmurs “hello.”

Steve looks a little nervous, but his eyes find Bucky’s immediately, and Bucky stops leaning against the bar and stands straight, looking back at him.

“There are so many songs I could have chosen, but my boyfriend, tonight’s DJ, Bucky Barnes-” Steve points to the bar and the crowd turns and claps while Bucky grins and shakes his head -- “he likes Perry Como, so, I thought he might like this.”

Steve looks back at Becca, and she smiles and starts the song program. As soon as the familiar chords start, Bucky nearly drops his bottled water.

 _‘Til the end of time, long as stars are in the blue_  
_Long as there's a Spring of birds to sing I'll go on loving you_

 _‘Til the end of time, long as roses bloom in May_  
_My love for you will grow deeper with every passing day_

 _‘Til the wells run dry and each mountain disappears_  
_I'll be there for you to care for you through laughter and through tears_  
_So take my heart in sweet surrender and tenderly say that I'm_  
_The one you love and live for ‘til the end of time_

 _‘Til the wells run dry and each mountain disappears_  
_I'll be there for you to care for you through laughter and through tears_  
_So take my heart in sweet surrender and tenderly say that I'm_  
_The one you love and live for ‘til the end of time_

 

Buck doesn’t recall walking through the crowd, but he must have, because when Steve finishes the song, Bucky is right there, at the foot of the stage, staring up at him.

“I love you, Bucky Barnes,” Steve says as the piano tapers off.

The crowd behind Bucky is deafening, but he doesn’t need to hear to watch Steve jump down from the stage to pull him into tight embrace.

“I love you too, you dramatic sap,” Bucky says.

As they stand there holding each other in front of a star-studded crowd, with the Avengers, Becca, and Justin egging them on, Bucky suddenly can't help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks with a smile on his face.

Bucky grins. “Nothing. I just have a feeling… with a crowd like this, Steve. It’s gonna be a good night.”

 

 

 

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> “Till the End of Time" was written by Buddy Kaye and Ted Mossman and performed by Perry Como as well as many others.


	14. Not Quite An Epilogue

_**Later That Night….** _

 

If Becca didn’t gasp in his ear every five minutes, Bucky would think he was dreaming or died and went to some sort of Rock n Roll heaven. Alicia Keys comes up to the stage to sing ‘Time After Time’ and looks over at Bucky like she expects him to sing along with her -- so he does. He’s still reeling from their duet when he gets to call up his very first celebrity crush, Cyndi Lauper. Ironically, Cyndi sings ‘Empire State of Mind’ by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys. Then Alicia Keys, Jay-Z, and Beyonce make their way to the stage to help Cyndi Lauper sing! The entire ballroom erupts into the hugest karaoke sing-a-long Bucky’s ever seen. Even the Avengers are singing, and that’s saying something.

Bucky looks up and finds Steve’s eyes. The disco ball is reflecting great color, but Bucky’s boyfriend is the shiniest light in the room. He’s never seen Steve smile so hard for so long. It’s almost comical, but it also assuages all of Bucky’s fear and insecurities that this night wouldn’t turn out so well. He can be with Steve, in public, and DJ in front of cameras and celebrities and not give up anything. This is his life now. He can have all of it.

Bucky wants Steve to know how much that means to him, so before the next dance break, he decides to break from the protocol.

“Alright guys, we’re going to take a little break soon here. Keep putting in your requests. We plan to party all night. Before we break though, I’d like to sing something.”

Wolf-whistles and calls echo throughout the room, and it gives Bucky extra confidence. His spark of style blooms into a full swagger and he lets his natural charm take over.

“Guys, I know you’re all rich and famous,” Bucky starts. “Well most of you anyway….”

The audiences laughs.

“I’m not though. And that’s okay. I know I’m not really anyone special, especially in this room tonight. But I do know I’m special to one particular guy, and that means more to me than anything.”

There’s a lot of ‘awws’ and people are craning their necks to peer back at Steve. Bucky puts up his hand to get the crowd to listen.

“I’d like to dedicate this next song to my boyfriend, Steve Rogers. It’s one of my favorite songs of all time. Me and my sister Becca grew up listening to it, but I really never understood the lyrics until now. Is it okay with you if I change the pronouns?”

“Yes!” the crowd shouts unanimously.

“Thanks guys.” Bucky smiles and looks across the room where Steve is standing once again on the seat of his booth with a sappy look on his face.

_Once in your life you'll find him_  
_Someone who turns your heart around_  
_And next thing you know_  
_You're closin' down the town_

_Wake up and he's still with you_  
_Even though you left him way across town_  
_You're wonderin' to yourself_  
_Hey what've I found?_

 

Bucky expected a few people to recognize the song and sing along, but not half the damn ballroom. By the time he reaches the chorus, he has a few hundred friends helping him serenade Steve.

_When you get caught between the moon and New York City_  
_I know it's crazy but it's true_  
_If you get caught between the moon and New York City_  
_The best that you can do_  
_The best that you can do is fall in love_

When the music finally tapers off, Steve’s expression reflects the same love and affection Bucky’s feeling. He hops off stage and walks right up to the booth seat Steve’s standing on. Steve offers him a hand and pulls him up to stand with him.

“I’ve never heard that song before, but I love it,” Steve says, pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “And I love you. Thank you.”

“You really want to do this in front of your friends?” Bucky asks, half chuckling. Steve looks down and all of the Avengers are staring up at them.

Steve looks back and grins. “Yes,” he says as he cups the back of Bucky’s head with one hand and uses his other to hold Bucky tight.

Bucky gasps as Steve dips him low for a dramatic kiss.

“Seriously? It was cute at first, but you guys are taking it too far,” Tony cries. “Get a room for crying out loud.”

“Get it, Steve! You see that? My boy’s got game!” Sam shouts.

Bucky starts laughing, breaking the kiss. Because his boyfriend is awesome- he’s brave, smart, hot, and has a good heart - but the one thing Steve doesn’t have is game. Sam doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but it doesn’t even matter because Steve and the Avengers are all laughing too, and this is something Bucky can definitely get used to.

 

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

 

Becca starts the next dance break while Bucky and Steve share a drink together and people-watch for a few songs. And then Bucky’s back on stage.

To Bucky’s delight the next person in the queue is sitting in the Avenger’s booth. He points in that direction and curls his finger to beckon her up.

Natasha rises and sashays across the dance floor, and the room literally parts so she can move.

“So,” Bucky says. “If you look up the definition of badass, you will see a picture of this woman.”

The crowd gawks as they part around Natasha.

“Now we all know she kicks ass, but what you didn’t know is that she also can kick it on the mic. Please give a warm hand to Natasha Romanov, otherwise known as The Black Widow!”

Natasha takes the microphone from Bucky, and like a seasoned performer, she maneuvers away from the DJ booth to stand at the edge. Her stare is captivating and she already owns the stage. The crowd looks on, entranced.

“Let’s go,” she orders, and Bucky quickly presses play.

_I've paid my dues_  
_Time after time_  
_I've done my sentence_  
_But committed no crime_

“Hell yeah! Go Natasha!” Sam shouts while Clint pumps his fist wildly. Bucky sees the exact moment when they get it in their heads they’re going to come up and join her. It’s like they read each other’s mind as they make eye contact and then scramble out of the booth to make their way through the crowd.

_And bad mistakes_  
_I've made a few_  
_I've had my share of sand kicked in my face_  
_But I've come through_  
_(And the beat will go on and on and on and on)_

Bucky watches as they wade through the crowd and then take the stairs two at a time and join Natasha on stage to sing.

_We are the champions, my friends_  
_And we'll keep on fighting...till the end_  
_We are the champions, We are the champions_  
_No time for losers cause we are the champions..._  
_Of the world_

By the end of the second verse, all of the Avengers and Maria have taken to the stage, even Bruce, who was dragged up by Tony and Pepper.

_We are the champions, my friends_  
_And we'll keep on fighting...till the end_  
_We are the champions, We are the champions_  
_No time for losers cause we are the champions..._  
_Of the world_

Bucky smiles as his boyfriend and all of his friends crowd in close to share three microphones. It sounds like an anthem and the entire ballroom sways and sings with them. There’s a tiny smile playing at the edges of Natasha’s mouth and Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so relaxed. It’s a good look.

As they approach the final verse, the front doors open, and a huge silhouette moves towards the mouth of the ballroom. Bucky squints and gasps.

“Thor!” he says, forgetting he has a mic clipped to him.

Even though the karaoke music plays on, the Avengers and the rest of the ballroom stop singing to look back at the Asgardian demi-god, who is accompanied by two pretty young brunette women and an older gentleman.

Thor extends his arms out and Bucky stops the music so he can be heard.

“Hello, friends!” he says loudly without needing a microphone. “I arrived today to visit my lady, Jane, and she informed me you were all here, taking part in a great festivity.”

“Thor, come up here, come up to the stage. We’re singing,” Tony says, waving him up.

Thor cocks his head, looking skeptical as he looks to his girlfriend and the other two with them. They all give encouraging head nods and a chant grows in the crowd.

“Thor! Thor! Thor!”

A wide smile breaks on Thor’s face and he nods to the crowd as they part for him. He takes to the steps and walks onto the stage to stand beside Steve at the end. Steve extends his left arm and pulls Thor closer to the microphone that he and Sam are gathered around.

Bucky looks out at the crowd.

“Now that we have all of the Avengers here, how about we finish this song out with a bang! What do you say everybody?”

“Sing that shit!” the crowd shouts back.

Carson Daly looks like he’s conflicted because there’s no way they can air that, but it's obvious everyone here is having fun and that’s good for ratings. Bucky briefly wonders how VH-1 is going to handle it, but then decides it really doesn’t matter. All that matters is this moment, so he laughs and presses ‘play’. The words resume scrolling across the huge television monitor and everyone on stage and on the ballroom begins to sing the final chorus:

_We are the champions, my friends_  
_And we'll keep on fighting...till the end_  
_We are the champions, We are the champions_  
_No time for losers cause we are the champions_  
_Of the world_

As the music dies off, most of the Avengers jump into the crowd, high fiving everyone on the floor from celebrities to their staff assistants. But Steve remains on the stage turns back to give Bucky the microphone and a sweet kiss.

“Best night ever,” he says.

Bucky throws his arm around his boyfriend and playfully nips his earlobe. "Didn't I tell you? I know when I'm right."

 

 

**Thank you so much for reading!**

****

****

**You can find a playlist of all the songs used or mentioned in this story by copying the following into your browser:** or https://open.spotify.com/user/softobsidian74/playlist/3u6s94RPlsnfenmlARnqJV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credits for this chapter:
> 
> “Best That You Can Do (Arthur’s Theme)” was written by Christopher Cross, Burt Bacharach, and Carole Bayer Sager and performed by Christopher Cross
> 
> “Time After Time” was written by Cyndi Lauper and Rob Hyman and performed by Cyndi Lauper
> 
> “Empire State of Mind” was written and performed by Jay-Z & Alicia Keys
> 
> “We Are the Champions” was written by Freddie Mercury and performed by Queen


End file.
